Planet Beta Nine
by EscapingMe
Summary: After intercepting a colony distress signal, Honorable Elder Thwei'dok'de and his team are eager for the Hunt. Being the first to respond they envision glorious battle and many trophies before Ooman reinforcements arrive. Not all is as it seems for the ambitious Hunters. Planet Beta Nine has a secret that might just be too much for them to handle.
1. Chapter 1

Honorable Elder Thwei'dok'de hadn't felt this challenged and alive in years. It was exceedingly rare for a Yautja of his age to feel this heady mix of long forgotten emotions. He was perplexed, cautious, curious, ill at ease and excited all at the same time. It reminded him of his youth. He was quickly becoming addicted to the sensations.

Nothing about this particular mission was making sense. It wasn't anything he'd dealt with before let alone heard of or read about in the archives on Yaut Prime. He couldn't help the feelings flooding his body. This might be something for the record books, and as team leader he would be forever immortalized and envied. Unable to help himself, he purred into his mask and continued to stalk down the buildings corridors' as stealthily as possible which wasn't easy.

Despite being fully cloaked, the catwalk metal grating beneath his feet refused to be silent as it clanked, grated and resonated with every step he took. He could do nothing to stop or minimize it and it only fueled the riotous emotions ricocheting through his eight foot frame. His enemies couldn't see him but they could definitely hear him. How would they react? His heart rate spiked with adrenaline as he continued on his way, scanning the various doors on either side of him.

Some were closed, locked or not he didn't know but others were wide open and offered him a privileged glimpse into the purpose behind this particular Ooman complex on Planet Beta Nine. Classrooms. Training facilities' which housed numerous rows of desks and chairs, a holoboard for note taking and diagram instruction set opposite a row of banked windows that showcased the silent but deadly realm of inner space.

Stars twinkled and gleamed through the thick panes, distant planets whirled and a nebula that was almost out of sight glowed in various hues of heated color behind his masks visor. This was a place for instruction, for youth, for pups. The notion both filled him with a sense of fatherly pride and chilled him to the bone.

While the complex appeared massive to his scans, it was impossible to step foot outside onto the planet's surface without proper gear. The Ooman's had implemented a terra forming program, but it was less than ten years old and thus far ineffective. There was virtually no supportable atmosphere for Oomans' or Yauts' and if a particularly rebellious, risk taking youth of any species were to jump up, off the planets powdery white surface, they'd quickly become lost in space. The gravitational pull of the planet's core was weak at best. Why had Ooman's sent their pups here?

Thwei'dok'de shook his massive head with a disgruntled snort and continued his patrol down the long hallway. The distress signal his team had eavesdropped on not even twelve hours earlier had indicated a substantial hard meat infestation due to a crashed ship that had been investigated without due caution by the complex's adult facilitators. He himself had seen no signs thus far of hard meats, but the fact that the colony was housing a massive amount of Ooman pups disturbed him greatly. There was virtually no where for them to go. No where to hide. The glimpses he'd received of the ventilation system proved that. Had the larger pups ordered their smaller counterparts into the duct system, the death rate had to be staggering. The vents at floor level were more than adequate to support transportation of adult kainde amedha and the vents along the ceiling line would be beyond perfect for ambushing face huggers.

The pups would have had no chance what so ever and Thwei'dok'de's chest tightened painfully. Ooman's were prey, yes, but pups were sacrosanct and excluded from any and all hunts perpetrated by the Yaut's and many other species throughout the universe. He hadn't personally run across a body yet but with the current ambient temperature inside the facility on the rise it would only be a matter of time before he could smell them, if nothing else.

The hard meats propensity for preferring warm, damp and dark environments pulled at his instincts to take the next available elevator down to the sublevels but he resisted for the time being. While the lack of bodies on Level Two of the building wasn't unusual, he wasn't stupid. The sublevels would be crawling with kainde amedha. There was sure to be a Queen in residence in the bowels of the complex, pumping out eggs with active and loyal drones to do her every bidding. Their estimated number would be far more than he could handle by himself.

He needed his team, which were stationed on various levels and out of the way corridors', none within direct tracking distance of his senses unless artificially heightened by his technology. It would be suicide to descend to the sublevels by himself and he hadn't lived long enough to earn the title of Elder without a healthy survival instinct. He could do nothing, and that knowledge made his head throb in frustration.

Pausing between two open doors, he stood motionless and calmed himself into a hyper aware state of consciousness. A predator's focus, where all senses were extended outside of the body to determine and survey the landscape. Once the final resonation of his last footfall fell silent, he could barely detect noise but didn't know exactly where it came from. A hum to his ears, it tickled along his nerve endings while his visually enhanced eyes saw nothing ahead, behind or to either side of him. The masks old factory sensors were picking up something though, something ...faint. Sweet. Heady.

Thwei'dok'de took a deep breath in and let it out slowly, trying to ascertain the scents origin. The vents were still operational, thankfully, but didn't seem to be running at full capacity as the smell wasn't as strong as it should've been, even from another level of the building. Were the hard meats already accessing the vents, blocking it? But if so, where was _their_ scent? The combination of scent and rumination made the Elder growl in indecision. Females. Tens, hundreds, thousands of females.

Their varying pheromones' clogged his scent receptors and made his body tense as a hardy tree in gusting winds, bracing himself against the impact as his skin rippled and his organ threatened to harden. So many females! The barest trace of scent seemed to come from the duct to his left, from below. The ducts over his head from the higher levels continued to layer, blend and grow in strength until his abdomen tightened, his thighs quivered and he was in sore need of adjusting his loincloth.

Blessed Paya, this colony was made up of nothing BUT females! Varying in age from the very young to the budding adolescents, topped off with the newly matured and ready to mate. Thwei'dok'de growled low in his chest and vibrated in place, using all of his self control to keep himself rooted to the metal grating under his feet. This wasn't just any Ooman facility; this was a colony that housed only female occupants of various ages! His dreads lifted and shuddered as he shook his head and fisted his clawed hands at his sides. He wasn't a Bad Blood. The scents of the lower levels merely told him pups were present. True pups, who hadn't reached their first cycle. But the upper floors..

His pulse thundered in his ears and his groin was so tight it was almost embarrassing. There were females housed here who were older, mature, stable in their breeding cycles and more than ripe to mate. His instincts were almost a force of nature to resist as he shifted his weight and planted his feet more firmly on the catwalk to keep from racing up the floors to the top housing. Damn Oomans' and their scents! Fearing that he'd actually whimpered or whined out loud, he grunted and surged forward in locomotion like movement to continue down the hall.

Somewhere, levels above his crowned and crested head, there resided a horde of breed able females in a panic of some sort. Their scents were blended like a C'njet infused fruit drink on his Clanship. He'd heard stories of Yaut females who lived within a closed community on Prime or aboard ship who cycled at the same time. Apparently, Ooman's did the same. Just as Thwei'dok'de was passing the last few classrooms on this eerily deserted hallway and rounding a corner to the left, his intercom exploded to life with various degrees of static, heavy breathing and screaming in the background.

"Elder Thwei'dok'de, I'm surrounded with no way of escape!" His second in command, Honorable Warrior Ker'ak'de exclaimed sounding out of breath and almost out of patience amidst a background of feminine squealing.

"Report," Thwei'dok'de barked as he finally rounded the corner into a paper and debris strewn corridor leading to another bank of elevators.

"Level Five, Corridor Eight. I'm trapped, Elder! My back is to an emergency exist in a T junction but it won't open. I have a mass of female Oomans closing in from all sides! They're unarmed, I repeat, they're unarmed!"

The Elder grunted in his grab of the stairwells railing instead, rounding and scaling it in record time to the fifth floor but the exit door onto it wouldn't budge no matter how hard he threw his significant weight at it with echoing bangs.

"Do not attack, I repeat, do NOT attack! If the females are unarmed, do not disgrace yourself by harming them!" Growling low in his throat, the Elder threw his weight against the door a few more times before stopping to instead punch a hormone fueled fist at the locking mechanism.

"Copy, do not attack, but Elder there are hundreds of them!" Ker'ak'de sounded panicked, his breathing quicker than usual and the commotion in the background nearly drowned out everything else from the feminine yells and screams.

The Elder cracked his neck in a full circle roll before finally kicking in the emergency door to the fifth floor. When dealing with Ooman's in general, aside from specific individuals picked out to hunt, all Yaut's preferred to interact with the rest as little as possible. Being forced to deal with hordes of them was simply unheard of. Swarming hard meats were one thing, but swarming Ooman's? Not since his Honorable Ancestor's had helped Ooman's to build and civilize had anyone had to deal with them in a truly public setting. Hundreds of Ooman _pups_ was the stuff of nightmares, if even considered realistic.

"Elder, they're all over me! Repeat, they're overpowering me and ripping at my armor!" The transmission ended with a flabbergasted roar and thud before the amplification of Ooman female voices took over.

Thwei'dok'de's adrenaline rush was rapidly approaching critical mass as he burst through the doorway and swung left. He barely managed to come to a stop before crashing headlong into an intricate barricade of metal tables, chairs and various other unidentifiable furniture. Before he fully had time to ponder the road block he spun on his heels to charge in the opposite direction only to jerk to an off balanced stop yet again.

He was boxed in with no where to go. Instead of immediately retracing his steps back into the stairwell, the Elder paused and cocked his head in trilled curiosity. Had the Ooman's constructed this tangled and stacked mess? To his vast knowledge there was no way the hard meats could invent something this efficient. If they wanted to herd the Ooman's in a specific direction they simply used themselves as a scare tactic. No, this was the Ooman's doing.

Crouching down, he scanned his attentions between the overlapping obstacles. The barrier was deep, extending at least twelve feet down the hall in either direction and was able to reach the ceiling panels overhead. The recessed lighting was dim but steady, indicating a continual power drain or perhaps intentionally lowered by the Ooman's. The youngest and smallest pups would be able to navigate the twisted course but not their elders.

Level Five was obviously yet another pup floor, like Level Two that he'd recently been in. This would definitely slow down the hard meats and allow the Ooman's escape or sanctuary against the exit door. The Elder swung his gaze in that direction and trilled again. They'd also managed to jam that door somehow, at least from the stairwell. Tricky and clever.

He chortled behind his mask and stood, gripping a table leg in front of him that was stacked on its side. Even with a forceful shake it refused to move more than inches in any direction. Perhaps they educated future engineers here. The materials used were soft in his species estimation. Flimsy metals, woods and plastics but even he, a great and Honorable Elder would have a hard time forcing his way through. Doing it silently was impossible.

With his esteem of Ooman's on the rise, Thwei'dok'de took another deep draught of the air and opened his com link to Ker'ak'de. Still he detected no scent of the hard meats but the scent of females was even stronger than it had been on Level Two, like a cloying perfume. It reminded him of the mixed meat stew his Bearer used to prepare when he was a mere pup. There were simply too many ingredients to name to accurately tell the taste. Pups barely out of training cloths to pups newly entered into maturity and beyond. Stress, fear, nervousness, excitement, around and around it stirred and swirled on his palette just like that stew.

The Elders maw was salivating so much he barely realized that his second in command wasn't answering the summons he'd sent or that since entering Level Five he hadn't heard a single sound that hadn't come from himself. On autopilot, he flicked a mandible to disconnect and call again while scanning the walls for a corridor sign. Ker'ak'de was in Corridor 8, but according to the small directional plaque on the wall in front of him, he was in Corridor Three.

Why couldn't he hear anything? Huffing, he listened with half an ear to the unanswered ticking of his latest call and accessed the architectural map of the building once again. The simple blue planes and angles of the building as a see-through 3-D line drawing panned, zoomed and focused until he found his current location. Each corridor had two stairwell exists, one main elevator and were separated from connecting hallways by sliding security doors. By his estimation, at least five of those security doors in either direction separated him from Ker'ak'de and were sound proof.

They also displayed on holo as being firmly closed. The entire layout of the structure was simplistically complicated once a hard meat infestation was in full swing. The building itself was an octagon, eight corridors on each floor, twenty-three floors in all not including the sub levels all built around a central park like court yard with a biodome cap. The Elder ignored all other particulars and instead swatted a mandible to activate the bio-locator.

Almost instantly the holo screen flickered, its thin lines of data color skewing and pulsing before red dots exploded before his eyes like an extremely hard hit to his head. The place was still crawling with heat signatures. That confirmed the swarm of Ooman's that Ker'ak'de had unfortunately run into across the complex. It also hinted that perhaps they'd caught the hard meats before tides turned. Thwei'dok'de's chest expanded with pride. They'd arrived soon enough.

There was still a chance. Exhaling without a care to noise, his anxiety lessened then flat lined as his eyes darted to the read outs to the right of his active diagram. The temperature was still increasing inside the complex, varying based on level, but each seemed to see an increase of one degree per hour. The lowest levels were the hottest, the highest the coolest and the sub levels were simply nothing but a swatch of bright white at over one hundred degrees. The kainde amedha were definitely in the vent system because the air flow was all wrong. At least the core seemed intact and stable.

It was possible that the reason he hadn't yet encountered a hard meat was due to the Ooman's scheming and the reason he couldn't smell them was due to the sheer number of females living in the complex. Buoyed by this logic, Thwei'dok'de clicked off the call to Ker'ak'de a second time with no answer and debated on activating his heart monitor. Ooman's only had one major four chambered organ for pumping life blood, but so did the kainde amedha and with the temperatures rising, how many of these red dots were Ooman and how many were hard meat? No, the heart monitor would help nothing.

The Elder consulted the schematics one last time before pivoting and stalking back into the stairwell. According to the layout, he would have to go up, to go down. Paya help him, but for every level he ascended the stronger the scent of females became. Mature females. Oh how he wished it was mating season for his own species.


	2. Chapter 2

**Sorry for the delay, I got waylaid by the Olympics, LOL. To every country that's participated or won a medal of any kind, congratulations! To those still waiting, I'll be cheering for all of you. I couldn't do any of it without ending up in the hospital, LOL. I don't own/make money from Aliens/Predator.**

Honorable Warrior Med'ka slunk as quietly as possible into the doorway to the right. The small gold plaque beside it said something in Ooman that he couldn't decipher but he paid it no mind. Ooman's were stupid creatures, whether young or old and he couldn't stand them. It was a well known position of his among his brethren and he defended his stance aggressively. Anytime a hard meat Queen was born within an Ooman dwelling such as this, he struggled to conjure sympathy. Not to say his own species wasn't naturally curious, they were, but they were smarter than Ooman's. Their species and civilization spanned at least a millennia longer than theirs, so to him, Ooman's were developmentally behind. Stupid. To be hunted, pitied, and spared at times only because their lack of prowess was beyond shameful.

His drive on this particular mission, if he were totally honest with himself, was centered solely on fighting the hard meats and bringing back trophies. The fate of the Ooman's was simply in the background. At least on this particular floor. Level One. Below him was the ground floor, and below that the sub levels. This level smelled thickly of pups barely out of infancy. He had compassion, of course. They were too little to die by the hard meats but since entering the building, he'd yet to encounter a single Ooman adult and it made him chatter his maw in derision.

It was unheard of on Prime or any Clan ship for a female to leave her young unattended, or at least out of ear or eyeshot. Their sense of smell could well exceed the tracking distance of any other sense, but their females were wise. They knew it only took a second or less for their pup to come to harm or to parish and be cradled in Cetanu's arms into the hereafter. Ooman's just didn't bother to care, it seemed to him. Instead of feeling angry and sick about it like his team leader, Honorable Elder Thwei'dok'de, Med'ka felt nothing at all but a maddening sense of witnessing dishonor.

The room he padded into, quietly at last, surprised him. He'd stepped from metal grating that announced his presence as surely as a shout to cushion like material that was as foreign to him as actually encountering Ooman's to begin with. Glancing down at the ground, he investigated the covering with a sandal clad foot. It wasn't hide, at least not from any prey that he'd ever encountered but it was soft if rough, against his toe claws. Multiple strands of some kind thread or fiber looped and fixed against a backing of some sort. Shuffling his feet, it made a 'shh' noise.

Directly in front of him was a single pane of window, stretching at least thirty feet from left to right and showcasing the glory of the outside world, if it could even be called that. Powdery white sand of the planets surface with various stars and other celestial bodies in the distance. In the middle of it was an opaque projection screen, presumably for showing things to the pups. The wall to the left was comprised entirely of overlapping sheaf's of single paper, colored brightly and awkwardly by a suckling or pup like hand. The various artwork was primitive, showcasing unsteady hands and a lack of focus. To his right, various larger print papers were tacked to the wall.

Med'ka couldn't understand a thing, but he thought they might represent drills of some sort. Numbers, maybe letters. Colors, pictures of various creatures, an Ooman clock, and so forth. Directly in front of him, between the wide window expanse and the door was a large open area strewn with various pallets that he hadn't seen before. Some appeared to be misshaped bags. An assortment of toys was scattered about too along with many low round tables and flimsy chairs of matching size. There was no blood, no gore, and no sign of hard meats.

Rumbling in his chest, the Honorable Warrior strode forth in full camouflage and angled himself off to the left, to the wall covered in artwork. Dropping to a crouch, he inspected each of the four large vents that ran the length of the room with his hands, senses and mask settings. The undeniable stench of youth was always present, but he couldn't detect anything signifying a hard meat. Each grating was firmly intact, yet the air flow through each seemed disturbed. A blockage.

His maw chattered again as he stood, evaluating the smaller vent grates overhead. Having to stretch on his tiptoes, the third vent seemed to carry some kind of sound. Quieting himself, he angled the right side of his head to the metal slats and listened intently. Bowing sounds of thin, malleable metal. Slight scrapping sounds of something being dragged or scurrying along. Face huggers!

Vocalizing low in his throat, Med'ka extended his wrist blades and slowly stepped back, watching it with hawk like interest. When the face hugger, or huggers, burst through he would be ready for them. They weren't fully grown adults, but they still posed a reasonable challenge. They were the scourge of a Chiva, as far as he was concerned.

His younger brother Tjil'de had become infected by one during his Chiva when he took off his mask to mark his crest with their clan symbol. He'd survived the embryo implantation, having it surgically removed once back on the ship, but his health never seemed to be the same after that. Unstable and weaker by a degree, he'd lost Cetanu's battle on his first true hunt as a Blooded Warrior.

The door suddenly slammed shut and the unmistakable "click" of the security locks sounded through out the room. Med'ka spun in that direction and roared his challenge, clear and unmistakable but the sight that met him cut off the sound abruptly.

Lined up in single file along the wall with the door were at least forty small Ooman pups, staring at him with various expressions. Some were blank, some held apprehension or fear, but others still held… Med'ka wasn't sure what. Pride? Admiration? Deviousness, over confidence? He'd never bothered to study Ooman expressions before, but those were the scents he detected so he guessed they'd match up. Instantly, he went still with unease. They continued to stare.

In the strained silence that ensued, one of the young females stepped forward boldly. Just a few steps, with her wispy soft brunette hair framing a heart shaped face and wide, doe like eyes in her academy uniform of skirt and blouse. She stood a head taller than the other pups with her chin up and tiny fists curled at her sides. She seemed to be their leader.

"You're a Yautja", she said with a firm but lilting voice. She seemed to be staring right at him.

Med'ka said nothing, not understanding what she'd said and stayed fully cloaked. He wouldn't harm any of these pups; they were defenseless according to his mask scan. Merely garbed in clothing without a weapon in sight.

"I know you're there," said the little Ooman. Her wide eyes darted all around the room, but mainly seemed to stick to the area around the vents to the left where his challenge had originated. They also lowered towards the floor.

Med'ka's own head dropped to follow hers. While he was fully invisible, the slightly plush carpeting did show indentations of his feet. C'jit. Even if he moved, they'd spot him.

"I know you won't hurt us," she said confidently, but it seemed forced. "Show yourself… please?"

He debated. While he couldn't understand her words, even with his translator since he'd been obstinate in downloading the Ooman language to his database, he knew her tone of voice. She was asking something, almost pleading. They were mere pups, barely coming to his knees or even mid thigh and they were unarmed. If they were scared, they were brilliant at putting on a brave front because his mask could barely detect fear from them now. It was more apprehension and excitement. Did they see him as their savior maybe? He hadn't encountered a single security force member since entering the building which was strange, so maybe they knew of his species and were asking for protection?

The silence and stand off seemed to stretch out, until he finally grunted and disconnected his cloaking device. Small little blue arcs of electricity lit up around his body as the technology subsided, powering off. The little Ooman leader was rapt in her attention, perusing him from head to toe with her limited vision eyes.

Amber quivered but refused to give in to her paralyzing fear. She had to remember what their leader, Meg, had said. These Yautja, these Hunters, didn't hurt little girls. They were safe. They had nothing to fear. Drawing in a deep breath that smelled of ozone, wax from their craft crayons and something that was oddly... him, she relaxed.

The alien in front of her was nothing like she'd ever seen before, and without fear she studied him brazenly, openly, as only a little girl could do. She noted his crested, broad head and hanging dreadlocks. His wide shoulders, narrow waist and long, long legs. The armor he wore was shiny in the faint light of their kindergarten. He was big. He was… cool.

A grudging smile on her lips, she hesitantly stepped forward and kept coming in the quiet until she was right in front of him. Close enough to really study him, close enough to touch. She came to just above his knee, and looked up. And up.

Med'ka looked down on the little pup, tilting his head in mild curiosity but saying and doing nothing. A quick glance, unseen by her behind his visor, showed her classmates standing just as they were. This little one was definitely the leader of the pack and brave. Even full grown adults of various species didn't dare approach a Yautja Warrior. He stood at ease, alert and aware since his discovery of the noises in the vent, but the next move had to be… hers.

"Will you play with us?" She murmured, her little chin trembling the faintest bit.

She smelled... innocent. Pleasant. Female. Young. Like his first born daughter had, when the female he'd mated in the third season since his Chiva had presented her around the same age. He was as mystified and inadequate then as he was now; no matter they were different species. He felt... nervous.

The little Ooman tilted her head during her inspection of him, sizing him up perhaps, before seeming to come to a decision. Grabbing his large clawed hand with her smaller one, she tugged him closer to her classmates with a confidence that would've made any Yaut Bearer proud. Med'ka was impressed, and uncomfortable. He followed the little one with halting, almost ungainly steps as the row of tiny females broke rank and slowly moved to circle him, at least forty strong, their curiosity evident and barely contained. Twisting his head this way and that, he watched them close around him.

"My name's Julie," the brunette leader said, looking up at him with awe and steel in her young eyes. "What's your name?"

Again Med'ka didn't understand, but he recognized the sound of 'Julie'. To his species, "Gwei'lei" which meant "Dead Blood". For an odd moment, he wondered if he should take care with little female. Looking at her upturned face however, proved just how stupid his notion was. She was an Ooman pup, nothing more! Growling low in his throat, he freed his hand from hers and crossed both arms across his massive chest in defiance.

Ooman 'Julie' frowned at his actions and seemed to study him even closer. If she were much older, he'd get the feeling of a breed able female evaluating him as a worthy male. From the set of her sapling like figure to the harsh crease between her furry brows, he got the distinct impression that she found him severely lacking in manners and conduct. Preposterous.

"Fine," Julie snapped with all the angst of a child, "I'll simply give you a name if you can't tell me yours." Crossing her own short, thin arms across her undeveloped chest she glowered up at him. "Bob."

Bob? He couldn't pronounce that in Ooman or Yaut, but he had the feeling that it wasn't nice. He voiced his displeasure with another low growl and allowed his dreads to rise around his head.

The little Ooman seemed undeterred however, taking his growly silence as acquiescence as she nodded. "Bob it is then. Bob, we're Mrs. Myer's kindergarten class." Med'ka tilted his head despite himself, but she continued.

"We found you, so we're going to keep you. You're going to play with us," the pup said with as much conviction as she could manage. The other pups in the room murmured their agreement and the excited tension seemed to rise up around him. "Sally? Show him." The Julie pup suggested, heavily stressing some kind of hint.

Med'ka followed her line of sight to another little pup with riotous curly hair much too… big, for her small face. The pup nodded eagerly and ran to the far wall with the paper pictures, scanning them briefly before ripping down one in particular. The girl ran back into the inner circle with him and Julie, her steps slowing with caution as she held out the image. Was she giving it to him? He grunted and snatched the gift from her tiny hand, aware that she'd yelped and danced back a step but was still watching him, along with the rest.

Lifting the flimsy paper, he cycled through various visual settings until one of them was able to show him what was on it. It appeared as a simple, awkwardly done line drawing like the rest on the wall but this one seemed to have more precision and heart than the others. Intrigued, Med'ka tilted his head again and traced the lines with his eyes. It seemed to be a Yautja, much like him, with a wide stance and a masked face with an arm thrust into the air. Combi stick in hand, the impaled head of a hard meat was easily distinguished by its oblong shape. Victory in battle.

Chirping behind his mask, he lowered the paper to look first from Julie to the bushy haired female who had given him the drawing. Had she done this? Been the one to draw it?

"D-do you like it?" The bushy girl stammered, her voice higher pitched than Julies and slightly more fearful yet she stood her ground with a straight back, rubbing the palms of her small hands against the fabric of her skirt over and over.

Everyone in the room watched him expectantly, or so it felt. It was so quiet a hard meat egg could hiss open and he'd hear it like an explosion. The loudness of the silence unnerved Med'ka, made his skin ripple and he growled again. Instead of backing away though, the group of pups closed in tighter, stepping forward in battle lines to trap him. What was their game? What were they up to? Why did they draw pictures? Why didn't they run in fear of him? Why were they now crowding him? What did they want? Why was he... scared?


	3. Chapter 3

**Just to note that I don't own/make any money from Aliens/Predator but the humans are mine. Thank you again for the reviews! **

**For clarification to "Ooman", thank you for bringing something to my attention that I hadn't planned on and that was people who might think this story was "taboo" for lack of a better description since it involves children. Let me firmly say for everyone that NO, none of "that" will be happening in this fiction. I think the confusion might come from the fact that all Predators are currently in the 'pup' levels, but they can smell the actual adults (18+) who are housed on the upper most floors. Due to their highly advanced sense of smell it would be impossible to have them ignore the adults, not detecting them at all, so to work it into logic the scent of the adults is adding further distraction and agitation when they can least afford it with possible hard meats on the loose and a ton of actual pups that none of them would have any conceivable experience with, as the Predators are males. To put it another way, none of the Predator's in this story are or will become 'Bad Bloods'. I hope that clears up any misgivings anyone might have. :)**

"Bak'ub, report!"

The angry twitching of his mandibles never ceased to cause him problems and according to his Bearer, had been a tic of his since birth. He hadn't meant to accept the Elder's call, at least not this quickly, but he said the same thing every time this happened. It couldn't be helped. If he heard a noise, his mandibles twitched. If he was anxious, under exercised, injured, ordered to hold himself back, lacking sleep or food or anything at all they twitched. He suspected they even twitched during sleep cycle but refused to record himself and find out for sure.

Just once, he'd like to let an Elder's call wait until _he_ decided to answer. Let the seconds go by, giving the illusion that perhaps he was very busy engaging prey or enemy. But no. He always answered faster than the whip of a hard meats tail; leaving various Elders to think only Paya knew what. That he was exceptionally trained, even beyond most Hunters of his class? That he was trying to win their favors even after being repeatedly over looked for hunt party promotions? That was pathetic enough but what he really shuddered to think was that they knew of his mandibles incessant twitching.

"Level Seven, Corridor 8." He replied, harsher than he had intended.

"You know how to report, pup!" Elder Thwei'dok'de's gravely voice bordered on a growl. Bak'ub certainly wasn't a pup, he hadn't been for a very long time. It made him bristle, his dreads lifting but he firmly bit back the impetuous impulse to growl a challenge. Of course the affront just sent his mandibles twitching all the more. Thankfully they didn't tap his inner mask and disconnect the call. This time.

"Apologies, Honorable Elder Thwei'dok'de, indeed I do." Should he explain? Bak'ub scoffed. No, explaining in full truth would get him into even more trouble but he couldn't outright lie, either. It was against Code and frankly as tempted as he often was, he knew the words would stick in his throat and choke him, impossible to utter. Half truth, then. "I've encountered neither hard meat nor Ooman thus far, but the scent of female is strong." More like nauseating. "I'm eager for the Hunt and grow impatient."

The Elder rumbled for a moment as if in thought. "It is the same for me. Ker'ak'de sent a distress call but we were disconnected. I managed to reach his Level but not his Corridor. The Ooman's had barricaded the hall on either side of the exit I came through. Very tricky." The Sire like pride in the Elders speech made Bak'ub snort. Sometimes he wondered if the Elder would start rescuing prey to have a pet collection to defend and nurture. Pathetic.

"I haven't run across any such barricades yet, nor have I been in contact with members of our team aside from you, Elder. Do you think Ker'ak'de found the hard meats at last?" Bak'ub again struggled to keep his voice even and steady. Ker'ak'de was recently made Second in Command for his uncanny ability to always be the first to engage in a Hunt. Leave it to him to shed first blood and collect the best trophies. So what if his name meant "Born with Abilities"? Pauk him. If anyone bothered to ask Bak'ub's opinion, he'd say that Cetanu had it out for Ker'ak'de with a vengeance. Ker'ak'de, for all his glories, wasn't the best Hunter within their current party. It was only a matter of time before the God took his head. Bak'ub couldn't wait.

"Perhaps," he heard the Elder murmur, "but based upon what I heard I have a theory. He reported hundreds of Ooman's converging on him from all sides. He was trapped. I could hear their screams in the background. Perhaps they were running from the hard meats and simply came upon Ker'ak'de."

The Elder didn't sound at all convinced of his 'theory' and with that tottering old fool tone he'd just used, Bak'ub suspected that the secretive team leader knew a lot more than he was telling or was willing to tell. To him.

"Perhaps," Bak'ub forced himself to concur. He couldn't demand answers from the Elder without over stepping his rank and falling into dishonor but he didn't have to. This mission just went from tediously bothersome to outright insufferable.

"I'm in route to Ker'ak'de's last known location now. The Ooman's are running scared, Bak'ub. Ker'ak'de reported that those he was swarmed by carried no weapons of any kind. I know your intractable position regarding Ooman's, you're even worse than Med'ka, but the majority in this building are pups." Based on the Elder's wry tone and his stress of the word 'pups', Bak'ub didn't need to be a genius to understand his leader's message. Angering all over again and resigning himself to countless hours of needless suffering, he picked up the pace down Corridor 8. No doubt the Elder could hear the metal grating banging and bouncing through the com link.

"Copy, Elder. I will not attack the Ooman's if they have no weapon. I will not dishonor myself." Bak'ub was more than ready to disconnect the call, but before he could, the Elder spoke again.

"Bak'ub… protect them as best you're able."

Oh for Paya's sake, the Elder sounded down right… he didn't know what, but he didn't trust himself to reply. A grunt was all he felt he could manage but before it could escape the call cut off and movement in front of him, to the right, instantly seized his attention. A wide set of swinging double doors were losing momentum and slowly drawing to a close.

* * *

Elder Thwei'dok'de scaled the stairs easily as his large capable hands gripped the metal painted railing to swing himself onto the next ascending flight. On the Ninth Floor, he decided to take a chance.

He was four floors up from Level Five which meant the pups should be bigger up here and perhaps there would be no barricades. To test his thoughts, he squared off against the exit door and delivered several solid kicks as he had before with little results. Everything was locked up tight.

Growling with pride, something that was quickly becoming a habit with him in this complex, he swung a forceful fist at the locking mechanism instead and sure enough it smoked up a thin plume before his next kick forced it wide open, banging against the wall as its reinforced hinges didn't make a sound.

The Elders scans showed a small group of Ooman's, or hard meats, scattered throughout the floor but without any particular body in sight as he stopped in the middle of the hall to look first left, then right. The corridor was dead, devoid of life within one hundred feet in either direction including sound as he stood still a moment to continue taking his barings.

No barricades barred his way this time. Open stretches of hallway greeted him, littered with papered debris and hard backed books of various sizes along with personal digital devices, odd items of cloth and other shapes undetermined. This level had been abandoned in a hurry, which strengthened the case for a hard meat infestation.

The ceiling lights flickered randomly, unlike the dimmed luminescence of Level Five. There was no power drain here. The electrical system was clearly at fault, damaged and not getting the stable feed it needed. Elder Thwei'dok'de growled in his throat before turning resolutely to the left. His scans showed he was in Corridor Three. Only five security doors separated him from Corridor Eight, where he could take the elevator down to Level Five to meet up with Ker'ak'de. Just as before, those doors were tightly closed but he wasn't worried. A simple punch had deactivated the exit stairs, so he didn't expect much different from corridor security.

Stalking down the hall confidently, all was silent except for his foot steps which announced his presence as surely as it had on Level Two, and Level Seven where Honorable Warrior Bak'ub patrolled. Perhaps his kind weighted too much in comparison to the pups who domesticated here but he thought strongly that they'd tampered with the metal grating. Loosened the nuts and bolts perhaps. Something that would alert them to the presence of an intruder.

The Elder was cautious, scanning continuously with his mask as he marched down the hall but could detect nothing. The whole mission remained a knotted puzzle to him and it kept his adrenaline high. The scans of his team members showed that all were still alive; thank Paya, in various stages of health. The majority had elevated heart rates but none showed distinctive signs of injuries beyond high stress or distress. That alone was interesting.

Until he passed a science lab to his left which was deserted yet emanated a sound. Stopping dead in his tracks, he spun to face the open door. The room showed no signs of life on his scans. Twin rows of long tables paralleled a central walkway in between leading to an opaque holoboard with a long stretch of single window pane directly in front of him. Various gases in small portable tanks were housed beneath the tables, along with a sink stationed at each and an extinguisher posted on the outside in case of emergency. The recessed lighting flickered in here, too.

Slowly he stalked down the far left aisle, between the wall and the first bank of tables leading to the front of the room. A counter stretched as long as the classroom littered with various test tubes, beakers and containers of random chemicals. It was a dangerous room to be in, given the circumstances, but nearing the projection screen at the front the sound came again.

It was faint, but organic. Pausing, he looked up to the ceiling. One of the panels was missing a few feet in front of him. A gaping black rectangular hole, it stood out against the stark whiteness in his UV scan. The sound came again as he approached, cutting through a mid-aisle of tables. It was shallow, breathy. Something alive was hiding up there.

Trilling behind his mask, he approached the hole above him without taking his gaze away. He could detect no movement, save for a rapid heartbeat in his vision scan. It was impossible to tell if it was Ooman or hard meat, so he checked his rush to challenge and merely observed. So intent was he on the dark hole above him, he missed the rising and looming shadow that slowly appeared behind him, a few tables back. The noise in the ceiling came again.

It was a harsh exhale, followed by a faint mechanical beeping noise. Freezing in place, Elder Thwei'dok'de wasn't prepared for the explosion that threw him forward several feet, slamming his hips against a hard marble table edge before catapulting him over it into a heap on the other side. The flare up of the ignition flashed the entire room in eye blinding light before fading with the sound of an agonized screech. The smoke rose thick and black as the sound died away.

Dazed but conscious, the Elder jumped to his feet with a threatening growl as he faced the end of the real intruders punishment. The smoke was fogging and flooding along the ceiling panels just as the dark hole spit out its heavy breather. Ooman. Female. She hung suspended for a moment by her thin arms before finally dropping to the ground several feet away behind another table. When she had yet to show, Thwei'dok'de went on alert.

He had yet to visually confirm the target of the explosion, but deep in his gut he knew it was a hard meat. The Ooman's were smart, despite being young. Moving slowly, he angled to his right to slowly circle in block formation the area where the explosion occurred. The tables in front and in back of the blast were blown to bits. What remained were charred black and still smoldering as he cut a quick glance to the wide window bank. No cracks or weaknesses, it had held firm.

Had it blown, he would've been sucked out. Inner space on Planet Beta Nine was only forty percent terra formed. Enough vacuum remained to pull him out onto the white sands of the planets surface to slowly suffocate him. He chuffed loudly and shook out his dreads.

The Ooman behind the controlled blast chose that moment to make herself known. Slowly she stood from behind a table to his left and in front of him, near the window. She was only a silhouette, thin but moderately tall. The table nearest coming to her midsection, if that. The Elder could hear her heavy breathing. Her fear and nervousness were evident.

Thwei'dok'de held his breath and didn't move, watching the Ooman's shadow. She was young, still a pup but coming quickly to the line of adolescence based on her smell, after he sorted through the acrid smoke and burn of charred flesh from whatever had triggered the explosion. A hard meat, no doubt. Not him. It was a close call.

The Ooman shadow stood for a moment, still as a statue, like the Elder, facing his direction. He was fully cloaked so surely the pup didn't see him, but her reaction surprised him. As if knowing exactly where he stood, she lurched into motion in her cuts and crosses in between tables to reach him. Thwei'dok'de was amazed and unconsciously backed up a step or two.

The Ooman female didn't stop. She cut the last corner table and launched herself at him, sight unseen, wrapping her thin little arms around his hips and hugging so tight his muscles ached in protest. The Elder was stunned, too stunned to respond for several seconds as the pup continued to cling to him like a life line. How had she seen him? How had she managed to kill the hard meat that stalked her? Why had she hidden in the ceiling rather than joining her peers?

Detaching the pup would've been easy for the Elder, but her arms were so tight around him that he hesitated as soon as the thought occurred to him. She was breathing heavily, unsteady, with the side of her face buried against his upper abdominals to the point that he could feel some… wetness. The pup was shedding Ooman tears. His heart seized. She was terrified, exhausted, and sought him out as surely as a pup would its Bearer. A protector. Safety.

Thwei'dok'de was purring before he even realized it, wanting to calm the little Ooman even though he still unsure of what to do with his hands and arms. They hung suspended out from his body in indecision. Should he embrace her?

The Ooman made a snuffling noise then. Her breathing cavity was inhibited, and she fought it. Sniffling and whimpering, tightening her arms around his hips and from the feel of it, locking one of her wrists in the opposite hand to not let go. The Elder had no experience with pups, his own species or that of any other, but his present advanced age told him that pups were pups. They could be very brave and brash, but also very scared and alone. He still didn't know how the female knew of his presence, but her emotional plight moved him, and he found himself responding.

His purrs kicked up a notch as his long, thick arms came around her shockingly thin shoulders as he bent over. The pups of his species sought sanctuary with their Bearer, not their Sire. It wasn't how things were done. But this pup… she sought his strength. His protection, his comfort, his expertise. How could he possibly deny her? His heart felt tripled in size.

After a time, the Ooman seemed to calm and gather herself. Perhaps his purrs helped? It was an automatic response of his species to a female's distress, no matter her age. Apparently it worked on Ooman's, too. She lifted her chin and looked up at him with wide, deep set eyes that somehow seemed entirely too old for her frame. Thwei'dok'de continued his purr, but smoothed a large callused hand down the back of the Ooman's small head affectionately.

He'd never seen any of his own pups before adulthood, male or female so this was quite the experience for him. Would his own pups have looked up at him like this, had they had the chance? Would they have clung to him as tightly, showed their young emotions so freely? He didn't know.

"I knew you'd come," the female murmured.

The Elder tilted his great head and switched his language settings quickly to the Ooman dialect of English. There were too many languages native of Earth for him to learn them all, but English seemed to be basic.

"I saved you. Us. I did it. I killed it." Her voice strengthened, backed with an unbelieving note of awe.

Thwei'dok'de had to agree. He hadn't seen the explosion coming, but she hadn't injured him while definitely killing her opponent. He kept up his purr, petting her head as gently as he was able while watching her.

"Can I come with you?" She asked hesitantly. Her wide eyes couldn't see him exactly, but remained trained on his face none the less. The Elder didn't know how the pup did it, but she... saw him. Grunting behind his mask, he nodded. He couldn't leaver her alone. It was unconscionable. Unthinkable. She was a pup. Smart, but inexperienced. Thwei'dok'de felt his massive chest puff up in response to her question, his shoulders pulled back. He nodded.

Hannah relaxed in his loose hold almost instantly, her weight sagging more against him as she hugged. Meg was right. These hunters didn't hurt kids. They were understanding, gentle, if awkward. They were so huge though! It was hard not to fear them, but this one hadn't attacked her. She wasn't sure if her explosion would work, but it had, and afterwards she hadn't planned on feeling so scared but he was there. He was here. Sighing out a breath as his purr reverberated throughout her body, Hannah knew she could count on him. Meg was right, as always.

Smiling up at the shimmering, hidden Hunter, Hannah said, "Where do you want to go?"

The Elder considered for a moment, debating on how much trust he should place in this pup before finally tapping on her thin set shoulder five times with a clawed finger.

Hannah nodded solemnly. "Level Five?"

Thwei'dok'de nodded but realizing that she couldn't see him, he purred louder in response.

Hannah smiled again, full of hope and promise, before catching one of his hands and tugging as she stepped away to lead them towards the classroom door. "Follow me."

Oh yes, Thwei'dok'de thought, this was definitely a mission for the record books.


	4. Chapter 4

**I don't own/make any money from Aliens/Predator but the humans are mine. A clue is revealed about 'Meg' and the first hard meat kill is made!**

Honorable Warrior Ker'ak'de felt like a pup off Prime, which was a constant state of being for him. He was always the pride of his Bearer even in training cloths and long before he reached the age of Chiva; his legend was destined for the Hall of Excellence. It was simply his Bearer's method of instilling goals in her pups that none of them could reach or actualize. Of all seven siblings, past and present, Ker'ak'de was the last one left alive.

Ordinarily he never questioned Paya's mysterious grand design but the predicament he now found himself mired in seemed the greatest question of all time. Why him? Perhaps he should have pondered that long before. His Bearer continued to claim that the adoration and pride she heaped upon him and boasted about to others was unique to him. She hadn't experienced illusions of grandeur about any of her other pups, but Ker'ak'de wasn't so sure.

She'd already lived through the death of two pups before his eventual birth. Maybe she was telling the truth, to a point. Ker'ak'de thought that her continual over blown boasting started with him, but it certainly didn't stop with him. Just a scant few cycle days before his Chiva, he suddenly found himself in direct and unexpected competition with his newest brother, Hg'thal, who was entering training in his first cycle year.

Before Hg'thal's arrival, Ker'ak'de had been silently struggling to live up to the expectations that his Bearer had set in motion. He was the smartest, strongest and most quickly developed pup in Yaut history. He would challenge his trainers and peers due to his advanced destiny in skill, cunning and longevity. He would soon need an entire ship to house his extensive trophy collection that was to come, and he would sire so many pups on exalted females that he could start his own clan. It wouldn't at all surprise his Bearer, he'd over heard her boasting once to the Elders, if the Matriarch herself birthed several from him.

Ker'ak'de lived in constant fear of failing his Bearer. It was a tall order to live up to and rather than relying on his natural merits of which his Bearer swore were the foundation of her strong fundamental beliefs, Ker'ak'de always felt two steps behind and a stumble away from dishonor. He hadn't slept well in many cycle years and was known to be sensitive to the opinion of others above him and exceedingly jumpy in the field. Hg'thal bore his predetermined destiny with over confidence, arrogance and mutiny against anyone who didn't worship his as yet unachieved future.

Hg'thal was cruel to his peers, critical of his trainers, undeterred in his early strutting to females and downright diabolical when it came to Ker'ak'de, his brother. To Ker'ak'de, this new development so close to his Chiva was almost more stress than his sensitive soul could tolerate. His Bearer had perhaps unwittingly pitted them against each other at a crucial time when Ker'ak'de more than felt he had to deliver. Hg'thal's Sire had slaughtered Ker'ak'de's many year cycle's before in competition for an unknown female. If Ker'ak'de failed his Chiva, it seemed history in its way would be doomed to repeat itself. Unbelievably, that didn't happen.

Emotionally in turmoil, Ker'ak'de had somehow managed to survive his Chiva with the barest catch of his claws. His record would reflect nine hard meat kills from the trial, and on his next hunt as a Young Blood he would be sited with the killing blow to a middle aged Queen that won her skull for the Clan. Exactly how much of it and future Hunts was attributed to his Bearer's prognostication and sheer stupid luck Ker'ak'de never knew, but Hg'thal perished within hours of his Chiva. The same fate befell all of his siblings thereafter.

His Bearer never stopped hyping up her pups and were it not for Ker'ak'de, she would've been thoroughly dishonored long before now. Whether the stigma filtered down to his siblings' Sires' was unknown, but it was probable. Ker'ak'de was now heading into middle age and his Bearer was heading into the realm of Cetanu, far from Planet Beta Nine.

"That's what they look like?" A little girl commented from somewhere to his right. The mass of young Ooman's around him broke into conjecture, murmuring amongst themselves and gesturing, some of them.

Ker'ak'de blinked rapidly, shaking himself out of his musings and back into the present.

"He looks weird," another small voice said with obvious hesitation.

"He looks cool!" Exclaimed another feminine voice in retaliation. The group again broke into conversation in muted tones.

He was more than surrounded. Seconds after exiting the Level Five, Corridor Three elevator Ker'ak'de knew he was in serious trouble. In front of him was a riotous mass of young Ooman females advancing quickly with screams and squeals. His frantic glances to the left and right confirmed the same. When he'd quickly turned to reenter the elevator the doors had since closed, leaving him trapped and thus stirring ancient memories.

"Don't touch him!" yet another voice cautioned. "Yaut's are dangerous!"

"They don't hurt kids," a sarcastic voice pointed out from in front of him, "we don't have any weapons and we're not gonna like, you know, hurt him. I don't think anything could hurt him. He's huge!"

The gathered crowd again broke out into blended murmurs, apparently discussing how indestructible he was or perhaps how huge in their scale. Ker'ak'de was oblivious since he didn't have his translator. To him, they were simply an innumerable, insurmountable crowd of female Ooman pups who were unarmed yet effectively had him pinned. His heart was racing and his breathing was harsh as he lay there prone on the metal grated catwalk, entirely at their mercy.

His Elder, Thwei'dok'de, had ordered him not to attack if they were unarmed and Ker'ak'de had agreed. Just as the communication with his Elder had terminated, the swarm of females from three directions had quickly converged on him. At the very end of the north hall in front of him, in direct sight of the elevator doors he'd exited, he'd caught a fleeting glimpse of shadow that was taller than the Ooman pack and moved very quick, quicker than them. Hard meat! He'd glimpsed a similar shadow behind the mob charging him from the left and right.

The scent of their fear was easily detected but also muddled with other confusing scents of excitement, apprehension and joy. Ker'ak'de had tried his best to be gentle in the first few steps away from the elevator doors, trying to muscle his way through the densely populated mass in front of him to follow the fast shadow that herded them but he was simply over run as the little females of various young ages latched onto his legs, his loincloth, his belt, his arms.

He'd barely gotten fifteen steps before they managed to trip and wrestle him to the grid patterned walkway. He'd roared in surprise and frustration before collapsing with a thud, his panicked confusion swallowed by the noise of the Ooman's converging on him as they ripped, tugged and found ways to strip him down to his essentials.

Left only in his hide loincloth, his other possessions were ceremoniously passed among them. His weapons, his armor pieces, his sandals, even his mask had been stripped in very short order. Every enraged roar was met with excited gasps and squeals, every gentle pushing sweep of his legs and arms met with more clinging small hands to try and restrain him. Those he did manage to dislodge or move aside were simply replaced with new heat signatures and new touches.

Through out Ker'ak'de's life he'd been divinely lucky. Blessed. Eerily successful, to quote Bak'ub, his Hg'thal like team mate. Nothing had prepared him for a bombardment of Ooman pups, despite siring many of his own with his species females. He didn't know what to do and without his mask, he couldn't again call on his Elder. Ker'ak'de was panicked and held still.

"I think he's pretty," came another voice, one of the youngest in tone.

"He is! He's like," said another, this one directly to his left. The female was small, as were they all, but she had a sweet scent that hinted at compassion and a strong early maternal instinct as her nimble hand hesitantly petted down his arm. "A really dark green with neat black stripes. See that? They follow his ribs. It's so cool."

Ker'ak'de swung his big head in her direction with a low, rumbling warning growl yet he didn't swat her away. He was on his back with his legs spread, at rest, propped up on his elbows. The harsh edges of the grating cut into his scaled skin but he didn't move. There simply wasn't room. Had they been a nest of hard meats, he would've been fighting tooth and claw but these were Ooman pups. They were… curious, or so he thought. They studied him intensely and kept touching.

"His legs feel like rock! They're so hard," said the same youngest tone. The hands of that female were planted firmly on top of his right thigh, trying to squeeze or maybe knead. Ker'ak'de growled again and allowed his dreads to rise, flexing his leg.

The youngest tone squealed and yanked her hands back. At least one of them heeded his displeasure!

"Yeah but," came another voice to his right, "he's got manboobs!" The crowd Ooh'd and Aww'd, accompanied by bold curious fingers poking and groping at his bare pectorals. Ker'ak'de was quick in his strike, snatching a fistful of the female's blouse and hauling her closer as she stumbled and struggled to keep her crouched position with a soft cry.

The crowd reacted immediately in noise and motion, trying to pry his talon tipped fingers from the discouraged female's clothing. Behind him, he felt insistent tugs on his dreads and the bicep of his right arm.

"Don't touch him!" came the earlier cry, as the masses panicked for a moment and fell up on him entirely in restraint. His sense of smell was inundated by female pups and he struggled not to lash out with his full strength.

"His skin's dry!"

"His breath stinks!"

"His teeth are so gross," was the latest in disgust and disapproval. "I guess that's why everyone makes me brush mine 'cuz his are really bad, they're kinda brown!"

"We should brush them!" came a suggestion.

"Yeah, brush them!" The crowd erupted in satisfied cheers as some of the pups rushed off, pushing and squishing their small way through the masses to only Paya knew where. Ker'ak'de hated his native eyesight in that moment. Everything was a blanketed field of red to his vision which made it impossible to tell expression. The scents assaulting him as much as the touchy feely hands were good ones, but that only served to put Ker'ak'de more on edge.

He had yet to release the female he held by the shirt front, despite the efforts of her compatriots. He might not be able to fully unleash his strength on them but he'd be damned if he showed weakness! In his culture the females ruled everything, including the males. It wasn't unheard of for a renegade band of female Yauts to terrorize the males in the area but to be bullied and dictated to by mere pups? Ker'ak'de's sensitive spirit was in full war with his male pride.

"He won't let go!" Linda cried, still stuck in the clutches of the Yaut. She was inches from his mandible waving face, having a clear sight of his sharp toothed maw within. She was scared and had little control over digging her short, flimsy fingernails into the back of his holding hand and thick wrist. Linda doubted she could hurt him or convince him to let her go but her lizard brain struggled anyway. Her blouse collar cut painfully into the back of her neck and her knees sent out flares of pain from being in direct contact with the metal floor. "Meg was wrong," she continued, "they're gonna kill us!"

"No they won't," said the voice from earlier who had pointed out that Yaut's don't hurt kids. "You're just spazzing out, stop it! If you stop he'll let you go." Her particular tone suggested impatience as she shoved her way past fellow students. "Move, damnit, outta my way. Let me by!"

Grudgingly and without solution, the inner circle nearest Ker'ak'de did part to make room for Nancy. She was tall for her age, only twelve but already five foot two inches with her long brunette hair in a constant braid and a small gold medallion around her neck that had belonged to her father for his distinguished and noble military service.

"I can't stop, I'm scared!" Linda cried disheartened, and cry she did. The tears slowly streaming down her slim, oval face to drop off the end of her jaw as she shook and kept hold of the Yaut's wrist. Her thick golden blond hair was held back by only two small barrettes above each temple. Her green eyes were wide and wet, flickering in confusion from the Yaut to the crowd, and finally to Nancy as she finally knelt down on the Yaut's left side, opposite Linda.

Ker'ak'de was curious by this new turn of events. He hadn't meant to make the Ooman in his hold fearful or scared, and her scent blasted his palette like strong acid. He was ashamed of himself. Briefly closing his eyes, he exhaled a ragged breath before swinging his gaze to the new female, Nancy. This one was a tough character. She didn't smell of fear, or apprehension. Only determination, confidence and strength. She was calm, in control and a clear force to be reckoned with despite her age. While Linda trembled and cried, Nancy gazed at him with resolution and understanding.

Despite himself, Ker'ak'de trilled in curiosity and tilted his massive head while watching her. Nancy continued to watch him for several heart beats, before smiling a little and slowly reaching out with her hands. They were small yet long fingered and slender. Delicate. The left one wrapped about his big wrist while the other reached to trace the clan mark on his crest. Her fingertips were almost ticklish in their light touch, but sure. Her eyes tracking the mark, at the end of its curves and lines she dropped her gaze to his brownish-red ones.

"Don't be scared, Linda. He won't hurt you," Nancy said softly while never taking her eyes off Ker'ak'de. "He knows you're just a child and curious. He didn't mean to make you feel bad."

Ker'ak'de said and did nothing, merely keeping still while watching Nancy. He couldn't understand her words, but he understood the pressurized touch of her hands and her tone of voice. She was trying to calm him. He knew Ooman's couldn't purr, so this was the best the little female could do. He purred lightly in respect of her maturity.

"See," Nancy queried of Linda, "he won't hurt you." Exchanging brief gazes with the younger blond, along with a reassuring smile, Nancy locked eyes with Ker'ak'de again as she said, "You won't hurt us, will you?"

Ker'ak'de didn't understand, but by tone of voice he knew he was being questioned. Trilling again and clicking his tusks, the Honorable Warrior angled his head closer to Nancy.

"Will you?" She asked again, her thumb gently massaging circles on his inner wrist. Ker'ak'de continued his purr, glancing at his hand holding onto Linda. His grip felt weakened. Not from lack of stress or awareness, but more from Nancy's outpouring of confidence as a leader like figure. She could keep these pups in line. Before his eyes, his hold on Linda slackened until he'd entirely let go of her blouse. Linda immediately stood on shaky legs, her abused knees baring brighter red testament to her trial on the grating as she sniffled and rubbed her face with her unsteady hands.

The crowd behind Linda soon enveloped her in hugs and comfort, drawing her away from him. He was sad to see her go for multiple reasons, but Nancy's touch quickly brought his eyes back her as she took his now empty hand and laced their fingers together. The size difference was remarkable, and for a moment Ker'ak'de marveled at it.

"We're on the same side," Nancy remarked, squeezing his hand while her other brushed the backs of fingers down his cheek. In particular, the scaly skin between his upper and lower mandibles. Female Yauts, no matter their age, didn't agree with or support touching. Not even his Bearer had touched him in such a way. Ker'ak'de was still stressed and on edge, but with this clear emergence of a leader, he'd calmed more than he thought was possible.

The recently escaped females soon returned, pushing their way through the crowd with many murmurs and conjectures until they reached the Yaut and Nancy, stumbling to a stop with their hands full of products. The youngest, Anna, held a large pump bottle of skin lotion while the other slightly older Veronica held a tube of toothpaste and a toothbrush. Nancy regarded each girl in turn, including their cache before nodding subtly and meeting eyes with Ker'ak'de again.

"We're going to clean you up," Nancy stated quietly. Ker'ak'de again had no notion of her words or what she meant, but her tone kept him moderately calm as the two nearly arrived youngsters began soliciting help. Numerous hands were held out for pumps of lotions that quickly started to massage his scaly skin. The warrior balked at first, growling low and tensing up but Nancy's massage of his inner wrist and her soft tracing of his facial bones kept his attention firmly centered on her.

Ker'ak'de couldn't lie. The massaging felt good, and before he knew it his muscles were relaxing under the multiple pairs of hands on his body. The lotion was cool against the hotter patches of his molting scales and it quickly killed any itch he'd previously been battling. The pups' attention was... nice. Even the traumatized Linda took part.

"Unfortunately," Nancy cautioned in her tone, "brushing your teeth will be… difficult."

Ker'ak'de tensed again and drilled the Ooman female with his predatory gaze. He might not understand her words, but her intonation gave him great pause as three youngsters closed in from both sides with a tube and a small brush. The scent of mint reached his senses and he snorted loudly, body shaking. Maybe he was wrong. Ooman's shouldn't be trusted.

oooooooooooooooooooooooooooo oooooooooooooooooooooooooooo ooooooooooooooooooooo

Bak'ub scented trouble and something cooking. Immediately his mandibles resumed their twitching and his eyes narrowed behind his visor. Without a doubt he'd finally engage something or someone behind those now still double doors. The question of course, was 'what'? Hopefully hard meats. His normally disagreeable disposition didn't even want to consider the possibility of Ooman pups, despite what his Elder had warned.

Rumbling low in his throat, he stood to his full height and shook out his dreads before activating his wrist blades. They shot out efficiently from his gauntlet, locking into place with a metallic _snick_ of satisfaction. If any pups got in his way then it would simply be in their best interest to get right back out of it. He'd honor the Code. He wouldn't injure or kill. He'd simply employ his own pup hood memories of being dealt with by superiors. Growl, roar, posture and threaten without touching.

For a moment though he hesitated before moving forward, checking his balance. The end of his previous thought might have cut off as if final but a small voice whispered in the back of his mind that he was deliberately forgetting something very important. Bearer's Rage. Only a Bearer could lay hands on her pup. If anyone else had the audacity they'd barely have time to regret it before they were pummeled and torn to pieces.

Just because he hadn't seen or scented accomplished Bearer's yet didn't mean they weren't around. Perhaps they were off battling the hard meats elsewhere? Perhaps the ratio of pups to Bearer's was so skewed that just a handful were positioned on each Level. He needed to be extra cautious and on guard. Unfortunately there was nothing he could do about being quick to anger and even quicker to act. His mandibles went from twitching to fluttering before he huffed at himself and slapped them all tightly closed against his inner maw with a clack. He was psyching himself up for nothing.

A deafening roar rattled down through the upper vents to his left, spilling out into the hallway with residual echoes only seconds before the sound came again but in a different octave. Bak'ub dropped into a crouch and rapidly spun on the balls of his feet to face the wall. His dreads lifted high around his crown and he growled, scanning thoroughly with his sensors as his left hand touched down on the catwalk.

It was hard to say what occurred to him first. The fact that the roars had to belong to the Young Blood Twins, Thr'on and Sy'kl, or the fact that his hand was now gooey from the hard meat excretion he'd planted it in unknowingly. The annoying twins Bak'ub could easily dismiss and forget all about. If they were in trouble, he was the last Yaut in the universe to come to their rescue. If he was a Bad Blood, which he wasn't, he reminded himself, right after orchestrating Ker'ak'de's demise the twins would be next on his list. Annoying and unnatural Yaut's who could finish each other's sentences, speak volumes of understanding and decisions with a single shared look and easily pass themselves off as the other without being easily detected had no purpose or place in Bak'ub's existence. They were a bad omen.

His body rippling in a shudder of unease, Bak'ub huffed again and peeled his hand off the catwalk to spread his thick fingers, watching the elasticity of the secretion web between them.

Just as he was about to open his com link to Elder Thwei'dok'de and report this latest find, a crazed and pain filled screech bellowed out from behind the double doors to his right. He'd planned to flatten his back along the wall and slink towards the entrance, hoping to finally minimize the clanging of the loose catwalk but now there wasn't time. Bolting to his feet, Bak'ub rushed the doors and barreled through without stealth or caution. So much for his earlier pep talk.

The sight that greeted him however wasn't something he could have ever planned for. The layout was quite simple and very open. A vast chamber filled with tables and chairs, some round, some square littered the solid floor along with a lot of debris that he couldn't identify. The lighting was either turned off or shorted out, casting long shadows cut through only by the wan light filtering through the long bank of windows directly in front of him.

To his left, another room extended partially into this one with another set of swinging double doors that were currently in motion. With every wave on their hinges, billowing black smoke puffed and wafted out to bump and flood across the ceiling. Noises escaped as well, excited and panicked shouts and screams that sounded Ooman though none were actually in sight. The built in oval viewing windows on the doors caught his attention in particular. They were… glowing.

Bak'ub flexed his muscles, his wrist blades still extended as he soundlessly prowled closer to the odd glowing doors. The heat signature showing beyond them was intense, almost a pure white. Fire?

He didn't have to wait long for an answer. Half way to the doors they suddenly exploded open as a large, particularly nasty and clearly upset hard meat stumbled out. It half ran, half tripped against the scattering of tables and chairs. Bouncing off some, falling over others and managing to set the littered debris on fire on its panicked wake.

Its screeches and wails were ear piecing and it was completely engulfed in flames. Like a giant fireball with hind legs it ricocheted its agonized way around the room, every mindless whip of its tail flinging a burning trail of fire that dislodged and sailed to random targets around him, quickly catching ablaze whatever it landed on.

Bak'ub fell back several steps, both from the intense heat and the haphazard splatters of fire that shot about and rained around him from its thrashing. In all of his years, he'd never seen a hard meat on fire before. He was more than eager to engage but the flames kept him dancing back every time he'd advance. He didn't know what the fire would do to its skull, but regardless of taking a trophy it needed to be put down and out of its misery.

While still debating his options, Bak'ub watched as a small horde of Ooman female pups burst from the doors soon after in pursuit of their prey. They were shouting to one another, frantically gesturing with their arms and making irritated breathing sounds as the smoke continued to flood along the ceiling and now along the littered floor.

Unlike him, they seemed to come to a quick consensus and surrounded the burning hard meat while grabbing various chairs, stabbing at it with the legs while clinging to the back or the seat. Quite skillfully they herded it into the middle of the big room, the smaller of the pups rushing ahead to shove tables out of the way before ducking behind them.

It was such a surreal thing to watch that Bak'ub stood motionless for a time, watching the Ooman pups coordinate their efforts as one by one they let out their own youthful war cries of terror and adrenaline while pummeling the blazing hard meat with the chairs they held. The pups in front would thrust theirs out, denying the hard meat an escape route and instead backing it the vicious swings of their counterparts. When the hard meat would round on its active attackers, those once swinging pups would jab their chair legs out instead, driving it back into the other pups who took their turn at the beating.

Obviously they couldn't get any closer for the kill shot than he could, but never the less they never stopped their intricate dance of aggression and death. Bak'ub was, despite himself, impressed. Somehow these little Ooman's who had no real training or present adult guidance had managed to corner a violent hard meat, douse it in some kind of accelerant since he knew they weren't naturally flammable, then corral it into the open so they could beat it to death. Amazing.

Just as the hard meat was starting to fade, unable to continue getting to its hind legs without immediately falling back down, one of the attacking pups broke from the ranks. She passed her chair-weapon off to another pup who darted from behind a table to take her place before rushing to the front corner of the room, behind him and to his right.

She was shouting as loud as possible in between racking coughs of smoke, waving both of her arms wildly in arcs over her head and to her sides. Bak'ub tilted his head curiously before lifting his gaze to the ceiling corner. There was a large, dome like object wired in to the electrical system there. A security camera? Bak'ub didn't know. Glancing again to the flaming hard meat that was still corralled by the youth, he flicked his mandibles to activate voice translation.

"Meg!" Beth cried in between coughs, flailing her arms at the camera. She was sweaty, dirty and coated in soot from the fires but she couldn't give up. While their plan had worked, they also needed help. "Meg, please!"

Bak'ub's translator had no definition for 'Meg' so it must be a name. He huffed at the odd sound of it and studied the little Ooman closer. She was small, as were they all but his vision scans could tell him no more, sadly.

"Meg, here, here!" Beth cried again, tears streaming constantly down her mocha skinned face from the smoke as she stole a glance back at her friends who were wielding the chairs. The hard meat had fallen finally and hadn't risen, allowing the others to beat it repeatedly in between dodging flare ups and the nauseating smell. "Meg, it's Beth!"

The camera dome whirred as it pivoted inside its housing, focusing on the flailing Beth with a rapidly blinking red light.

"Meg, it's down!" Beth coughed again and doubled over, pulling the collar of her uniform blouse up to cover her nose and mouth. She didn't think it would do much good but it was better than nothing. Who knew that thing would stink even worse when on fire than it did otherwise? Choking as much on the smoke as the smell, Beth swallowed multiple times to keep her stomach settled as she swayed a step or two to the side. She hadn't bothered to straighten or bind back her naturally wild hair so it poofed out slightly in a halo effect around her small head, her temples dripping with sweat.

The camera had no immediate reply forth coming, but Beth's peers were still at work. The camera whirred again as it tilted its trajectory to the scene behind her. The hard meat was officially down, still screeching and writhing but no longer completely mobile as her friends swung and beat on it with their chairs in a flurry of cries and coughs. Slowly its sounds weakened, trailing off into nothingness as it finally lay still and unmoving, curled into the fetal position while still on fire.

Bak'ub darted his gaze to the hard meat and its surrounding attackers. The young Ooman's were exhausted and the worse for the wear from the smoke and stress. Quickly switching vision settings, Bak'ub honed in on the alien intensely. It might be unmoving but its heart was still beating, albeit slow and irregular. It was still alive.

Growling out loud, he forgot all about the Ooman Beth and the camera as he stalked in full cloak towards the circle of Ooman's surrounding their kill. They couldn't know that it wasn't dead, so he couldn't fully blame them but he was still incensed. Pups so young shouldn't need to kill or be called upon to do it. They didn't know about things like dishonor and cruelty. It shouldn't be up to him to teach them, but his own honor was at stake if he didn't finish it off. It had suffered.

His growl ramping up to a roar, Bak'ub drove his wrist blades into the heart of the hard meat despite the flames. They had since died down; the accelerant used wearing off enough to allow him close. His blades shredded flesh, bone and inner tissue at the thrust that he could feel up the full length of his arm. It was a heady feeling. No matter the work the pups had put into it, this was his kill and his trophy to take. Retracting his blades, acidic blood splattered to hiss and burn on the floor as he looked to the ceiling and let out a victory bellow, thumping his fist against his armored chest.

The corralling pups let out various noises of surprise, dismay and anger after hearing him. They all backed up to give him a wide berth with their chairs still held out in front of them, just in case. Fear was scented in the air, and Bak'ub fed off that, too. There were hard meats in this insufferable place, and he'd made a clean kill. Hopefully before any of the others. He was just about to open his com link again to Elder Thwei'dok'de when sirens suddenly started shrieking from every wall, along with flashing red lights. Spinning in a circle to assess potential threats, the ceiling opened up in a torrential downpour of water.


	5. Chapter 5

**I don't own/make any money from Aliens/Predator but the humans are mine. Thank you again for the reviews - I hope to pick up some more. Let me know what you like, don't like, what confuses you, etc. and I'll address it all as best I can. I even welcome flames if they're constructive. Entertaining you is just as important to me as improving as a writer, since I think the two go hand in hand. :)**

**To one of my 'Unknown' reviewers who works at an aquarium - I don't think you're a stalker so please don't worry, LOL. I haven't seen you post in awhile. To answer your question, I have read some of the books but only 2 I picked up at a garage sale. I hope to get my hands on the others in the future.  
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**To 'Ooman' regarding the alien-on-fire beat down of the last chapter, I didn't factor their acid blood into the mix for a couple reasons. One, their exoskeleton is so strong that not just any fire would really weaken it I don't think. Two, the beat down was given by pups who don't have the same strength as full grown adults plus they're female who have weaker upper body strength than males. Three, the alien was on fire so you can't really get 'that' close to deliver a hit without getting a face or full frontal of the fire's heat and licking flames. I hope that helps. :)  
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**Just as a side note, to publicly respond to a PM I received that might be of interest as a whole - this story is marked "humor/mystery" but not every chapter will have 'in your face' humor. I want to try and show a range between light humor that gets a smile, to gut busting laughter especially in the later chapters when the Young Bloods come into play. The devoted chapters, like this one, will happen on occasion if a Yaut and pup seem to bond. It won't happen with every one of them but when it does, I thought that a showcase chapter would be good. Once it happens, it won't again, or shouldn't anyway.  
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**Sorry that this author's note was longer than usual but I hope it helped. :)  
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"So what's your name?" Hannah asked curiously, still clinging to the Elder's large hand as they made slow progress down the hall of Level Nine, Corridor Three towards the first set of security doors. They weren't in viewing range yet, but according to Thwei'dok'de's scans they'd run into them around the curving bend just up ahead.

"Honorable Elder Thwei'dok'de, pup of Honorable Arbitrator Guan-thwei and Honorable Female Chi'ya of the Hlp'lar Clan." His response was automatic after years of being asked during introductions, Clan gatherings and mating celebrations on Prime. Without meaning to, his chest also swelled and his shoulders drew back more than usual with pride.

Hannah remained quiet but angled a confused look up at him. At her silence, Thwei'dok'de glanced down to her up turned face and felt his brow ridge scrunch behind his mask. Her own furry brow was doing the same.

"So like, that whole... thing is your name?" The female pup continued to stare at him. Both of them could have easily run into a hard meat, literally, or tripped over the floor debris or their own feet because even the Elder wasn't paying attention to what lay in front of them. Her furry, contorted expression amused him. Confused him.

Huffing, he tossed his dreadlocks and faced forward. "H'ko. Honorable Elder Thwei'dok'de."

Sparing a quick glance down the hall, Hannah looked at him again in puzzlement. "Hick-o, blahblahsomething, Thai-duck-duh?"

Her butchered pronunciation was so hard on the ears and off the mark that the Elder stopped on a dime in the middle of the hallway to angle his large body towards hers. Hannah jerked to a stop along with him, stumbling a bit. She would've fallen had he not gripped her small hand more firmly and tensed his arm to rebalance her. Even so her momentum wanted to rebound her back in his direction. She had to take another step, thankfully not on top of his foot.

Thwei'dok'de tilted his head and trilled at the little Ooman as she huffed right back at him and planted her free hand, now a fist, on her small still developing hip. "Why did you stop?"

The Elder continued to study her before glancing down at their joined hands. When he'd jerked her to a stop, she hadn't tried to shake loose of him. If anything, she'd tightened the hold on him as well. Forcing his hand to ease the pressure, he experimentally spread his large fingers. The pup immediately countered by tightening up, the tips of her blunt little fingers digging into the palm of his hand. Thwei'dok'de trilled and matched her grip before glancing again at her face.

Hannah bit her lower lip, considering his massive size. It was only a very faint shimmer to her, not even the edges of his body were clearly visible against the backdrop yet she knew she met his eyes, somehow. "When you stop like that, it makes me think something's wrong. Like there's danger or something. Are we in danger?"

"H'ko," the Elder rumbled. During their brief walk his scans had been on constant alert for any signature of life, be it Ooman or otherwise. He might not always be vigilant, which was something he'd never admit out loud since until now it had never happened, but his scans were. They were completely alone in the hall. Unless one of them spoke or their footsteps rattled the walkway, the silence was so eerily loud that it could've been considered a noise in its own way.

Hannah's furry brows were moving again, and her fleshy mouth pursed. "Hick-o. That must mean 'no', right?"

"Sei-i," Thwei'dok'de replied, only after catching himself wanting to nod at first. Smart little pup. Yet why would a smart pup not tense up and look around if she thought there was danger, as she'd said? The Elder tilted his head in the opposite direction, causing his many rank rings to clink and chime against each other softly.

"See-eye? That means yes?"

The Elder chortled, his shoulders shaking all the way down to where their hands joined. Smart, _silly _Ooman. "Sei-i," he repeated, "ye-es". He could only hope he didn't butcher the English word as badly as she butchered Yautja.

"Oh okay, cool." Hannah nodded, biting on her lower lip again before casting a glance around the hall. She didn't appear to be on alert, like her eyes might land on danger. Thwei'dok'de chuffed at the air through his mask yet he could scent no fear from her, only a complex mix of emotions that he couldn't dissect. Firming his hold on her small hand, he slowly drew her closer until her upper body grazed his hips. She came willingly without a struggle. He trilled and leaned down.

"Nn-ooh dayn'ger. Nn-ooh.. fe-ear?" He rumbled in English as best he could, watching her closely.

Hannah shook her head immediately in the negative and squeezed his hand tightly a couple times. The Elder trilled again and straightened, unsure exactly what to make of this bomb making little Ooman. "Wuh-eye?" He asked.

"I trust you," Hannah said without hesitation and with a growing bright smile. Then it fell away into a frown. "Just don't stop real fast, okay? 'Cuz if you do I'll think something's wrong."

"Wuh-ut wuh-ood oo d'oo eef... wer-awng?"

When Hannah didn't answer as promptly as he was used to from her, he growled low in his throat and tugged on her hand until her entire body thumped against his legs. At first she lost her breath with a light whooshing sound and her eyes widened impossibly large but then she giggled, covering her fleshy odd mouth with her free hand.

Thwei'dok'de huffed again and dropped down on to one knee in front of the Ooman. Her eyes if possible, widened even more at how fast he moved. Still to her credit, she never released his hand.

"S…sorry. I didn't catch that right off. Um... " Hannah worried her lip again, and the Elder flicked his eyes to the motion behind his mask. Such a curious reaction, what did it mean? He tilted his head again and leaned closer. "I… think you said, um. What would I do if wrong? Like, what would I do if something was wrong?"

"Sei-i," Thwei'dok'de rumbled, nodding his head slightly so that his mask feathered against the Ooman's forehead.

"What," Hannah paused and swallowed, "what would you want me to do? 'Cuz I have some more, um, bombs in my pack. They're not real easy to set up but I'm good with 'um. I'm the smartest in my science class." The way her voice lilted a bit higher at the end with pride made the Elder purr at her in response. He could well believe that she was an exceptional pup. He wasn't even sure they had her likeness in his own species. Too bad she was Ooman. Had she been Yaut, many Clans besides her own would be watching her grow to adulthood with pride and eagerness. What a formidable female she would turn out to be. Sought out by males of every rank. Her Bearer and Sire must be ecstatic.

"F-iight."

"You'd… want me to fight?" Hannah queried as her furry brows met in the middle again and her fleshy lips pursed. When she wasn't chewing on them she was tensing them, the Elder noticed. Why?

Instead he replied, "Sei-i. F-iight." Taking her free hand and manipulating it back into a fist; he brought it up and thumped it lightly three times against her under developed chest to drive home his meaning. Curiously, the Ooman seemed to relax even more than before now than he effectively held both of her hands.

"Oh…," Hannah sighed and slumped her young shoulders, causing the straps of her small backpack to slip down. She tucked in her chin to look at the fist he held against her chest, her own fist. She hadn't unclenched it yet and didn't now, merely kept staring down. "I'm not… really good at fighting."

Thwei'dok'de snorted loudly this time. He didn't believe that for a second. Hannah quickly looked up to meet his eyes, or so she believed, and frowned with every ounce of childhood irritation that she possessed. She even stamped a foot on the catwalk in her ire which made the Elder trill in amusement as he kept watching her.

"I'm not! I never last five minutes in SoBall! They always take me out first, or close to it. They call me a nerd and laugh at me. They even hit me once I'm out and walking off the court." Hannah's hazel eyes shot sparks and she started to tremble in place, her lips set in a mutinous thin line that was so tense Thwei'dok'de could hear her molars grinding.

The Elder knew he was walking on dangerous ground now. While his insides wanted to melt at the blind trust this pup continued to have in him, he was serious when he said he needed her to fight when they encountered the hard meats. In this complex she might not be able to easily hide and if he was pinned down, which was unlikely given his age and skill, he might be a few seconds behind in coming to her aid. Yet how strange that when he doubted her inability to fight she showed such spirit and rage. Her small form vibrated with it. He could feel it through his hands and her scent was strong now despite his mask.

He didn't know what 'SoBall' was, but it sounded like a group event where the bigger, stronger pups first targeted their weaker, smaller counter parts. Had no one encouraged this female to stand and fight? To mold this spirit and passion in training, self discipline and skill? Adult Ooman's were stupid creatures indeed. If this was his pup, the little Ooman would be lethal right now, even against him. Thwei'dok'de purred softly at the pup, rubbing his clawed thumbs over the backs of both her hands before bringing the fist at her chest up to rest on his canon-free shoulder.

That done, he reached across to his wrist computer on the arm still holding her tiny hand. He never let her go. Once the lid sprang up, he punched in a code with a finger to deactivate his clocking device. Hannah's breathing was still short and shallow with embarrassed anger, but she quickly followed his movements with her eyes. The low beep of the buttons on his computer held a particular fascination for her as she tilted her head and leaned closer to the equipment she could hear but not yet see. Using her now freed fist, she relaxed enough to sweep her red hair back behind a pierced ear when it fell forward. Thwei'dok'de kept up his purr as the blue arcing electricity crackled and snapped, revealing his body slowly from the outside in. Hannah had gasped at the unexpected noise, her freckled nose wrinkling at the scent of ozone.

To keep her calm, the Elder helped her tuck her hair behind her shell like, extraneous ears. Her hair was… soft. Like the finest fur hide he'd ever claimed as trophy. It was thick and rich, filtering through his large fingers as he combed it back from her small round face. While he never felt the difference between being cloaked and revealed, he could tell the exact moment that the little Ooman saw him for the first time.

Hannah leaned into the touch of his large hand. It could completely cup her head! She also squeezed his other hand that she held tightly, and squeezed her free hand on his armor clad shoulder again. It was all so surreal. Being the smartest in her class led her to be nominated by Meg to lead her grade Floor, Level Nine. She was to organize and schedule, to delineate tasks and missions to her peers while hiding those that she knew would only get in the way. She was scared at first, terrified really. The only solution to that had been to believe in Meg with her whole heart.

She was the first one to do just that. It wasn't a conscious decision so much as a subconscious one. The lizard brain, as Meg called it. It had got her this far. Her Floor had no reported deaths as of yet, but she never thought in her wildest dreams that her territory would be visited by a Predator. A male Predator. This one was so spectacular that Hannah wanted to cry.

Once the popping and crackling of pale blue light diminished and he was fully in her view, she held her breath and didn't know where to look first. He had a very broad head that crested in the back where his long dreadlocks grew and hung from. They were grey though, a silvery grey and clamped with many metal rings. She'd heard them clinking together, like a wind chime from one of the historical archive videos. They were long, too. He was kneeling, but they ended at his hips. Leaning slightly to the side, pressing her head tighter to his palm, she could see the beginning of them and while the lengths were like moonlight, the upper inch or two was pure white.

He wore an elaborate silvery like mask with red visors for the eyes. The design etched along his jaw and up to his temples reminded her of fiery flames. Lifting her small hand from his shoulder, she touched her fingertips to the engraving and embossing. It was smooth and satiny, though metal. She couldn't see through the visors but knew somehow that he watched her intently. Looking directly into them, she gave a small, shy smile before moving on. Near the bottom of the mask, she could make out what could be his jaw. Puzzled, she squinted her hazel eyes and ducked her head down.

To oblige her perhaps, he lifted his head up, baring the underside of his jaw and his throat. The significance of the gesture was lost on young Hannah, but she appreciated his help. His jaw looked… strange though, and her hand drifted from his mask to the slight protrusions she saw under his chin. When her fingers skirted along his left side, they seemed to move. To flex inwards? Fascinated, Hannah tried mapping them by shaping them with her touch before moving to the other side.

The Predator kept up his purr throughout her inspection. It even seemed to increase in intensity when she touched his jaw. Least she thought it was a purr. It was like a low thrumming coming from his throat or chest. She could feel it in her own body and it made her tingle and go numb after awhile, in a pleasant way. Smiling, Hannah drifted her touch down his throat though not much of it was actually exposed. He wore a high collar of some sort. It was black and ribbed. It didn't feel like metal, unlike his mask, but it was very rigid and smooth.

Below that from shoulders to lower abs was a solid sheet of metal. The devote scientist in Hannah longed to do an analysis. It looked like polished silver molded to the shape of a regular male body. Pectorals, ribs, diaphragm. Somehow though she knew it wasn't silver or stainless steel, or iron or anything else. His arms were bare from a few inches down his biceps, past the metallic shoulder caps, and she was able to see his actual skin. It reminded her a lot of her own skin, only more reptilian somehow. Her fingertips trailed along. He was firmly muscle without an once of fat. Her touch couldn't detect any softness at all. It was like he was sculpted of marble.

"Wow…" she whispered. How strong he must be. He could break her in half without even trying, yet she still wasn't afraid. Hannah found that perplexing, and amusing. She really didn't fear him and she should. Meg had said they didn't hurt pups but being told something and witnessing it first hand was very different. All scientists knew that. His coloring was as unusual as his dreadlocks. She couldn't fully determine what color or colors he used to be because everything was a murky grey. He might have been black, green, blue, red, for all she knew. There were so many scars on those arms.

"You're beautiful," Hannah finished with an awed murmur. "You're huge, too. Tall and just… big." Blinking rapidly to clear her watery eyes, she cleared her throat and smiled at him tremulously as her exploring hand came to rest on his shoulder again. No wonder she trusted him blindly. He was a walking natural disaster of evolution.

"F-iight." Thwei'dok'de said again, once the little Ooman had looked her fill. His rumble wasn't as steady as it had been before. He'd kept his gaze locked on her little round face since he'd become visible to her, and he couldn't trust himself to speak. He'd encountered his own pups when they entered training and after, and never had they looked at him like this up on first viewing. His pups saw him as something to live up to, to surpass. They sized him up as a competitor for future hunts and females. This little Ooman though, she viewed him like a work of living art. Like a statue of Paya or Cetanu back on Prime. He could easily smell her emotions of wonder, pride and excitement yet her young body remained relaxed.

Hannah blinked a few more times before taking a long, slow breath in. "Easy for you to say."

Thwei'dok'de huffed but didn't relent in his constant purr. He squeezed her small hand, having yet to let go or be let go of, and cupped her little face in his other. A clawed thumb ran across her odd fleshy lips that trembled to her cushioned cheekbone and beyond. Would his pups have ever looked at him like this? Like he was a living god? Her unwavering acceptance of him, sight unseen and physically, made him weak in the knees. Thank Paya he was kneeling.

"Sei-i, f-iight. Str-awng. Sm-art." Pushing to his feet albeit unsteady, the Elder dropped his hand from her face and stepped back slightly to put some room between them. He saw Hannah drop her chin to his clawed feet and scan up his body until she again met his mask. How she knew where to look when he was cloaked was still a mystery, but not pressing. Curling his free hand into a fist, he thumped it with force against his lower abdominals, where his chest plate didn't reach.

Hannah watched his movements and frowned in confusion, chewing on her lower lip again.

"F-iight. Str-awng. Hee-t." He rumbled, thumping himself again rather firmly. To Hannah's confused gaze, the self inflicted punch seemed half-assed and didn't even dent the firmness of his muscles. She shook her head and looked up to his visor again, the question in her gaze as plain as day. _You've got to be kidding me._

Thwei'dok'de ramped up his purr and reached out with his free hand to take her own, curling her small fingers into a fist before thumping his abs again with his own. "Hee-t."

"You... want me to hit you?" Hannah said, her voice conveying her disbelief.

The Elder nodded firmly and dropped his thumping hand to his side, relaxing his body.

Hannah took another deep breath and let it out slowly, curling her newly made fist even tighter before bringing it back. She glanced at him again though to be sure, wrinkling her brows. Thwei'dok'de nodded resolutely. "Nur-d." He made himself laugh, chortling really with shoulder shakes. He pushed lightly against her small shoulder in challenge and huffed.

"I'm not a nerd!" Hannah spit back, the fire back in her hazel eyes as she narrowed them and firmed up her stance.

"Nur-d." The Elder spat at her this time, pushing a bit harder at her shoulder until she lost her balance. This time he didn't correct her balance by tightening his hold on her other hand. "Nur-d. Week."

Hannah twitched her lips in a snarl and her normally pale face flushed crimson. She slowly tightened her hold on his hand until her own was shaking and white knuckled with the effort to hold herself back. Thwei'dok'de was impressed. He felt a slight discomfort in her grip which was amazing considering her species and age. "Week. Die."

The little Ooman shrieked her outrage at last, her heat signature blazing behind his visor and her scent so strong that even his mask filter couldn't dilute the potency of her indignation and rage. Her cocked hand drew back further and her stance widened. Her narrow hips pivoted and before he knew it, he was being punched with might in his lower torso. Had he not prepared at the last second, her hit might have actually registered real pain. Her whole weight landed behind the blow and while insignificant compared to his, the smaller breadth of her fist packed more of a punch on a smaller area.

Thwei'dok'de grunted out a loud breath and tensed afterwards, his muscles rippling as he shook out his dreads. The rings chimed softly with the movement, along with their swishing slide against his back armored plate. The little Ooman did good. Very good. The Elder rumbled in his throat before it kicked into a prideful purr.

Hannah however looked terrified. Her wide hazel eyes shinned with tears as she quickly recoiled her fisted hand to her chest. Her breathing was shallow and irregular, fleshy lips parted as she took an involuntary step backwards. Despite it all, she never let go of his hand. The Elder purred louder and thumped his fist to his plated chest loudly.

"Sei-i, guh-d. F-iight. Str-awng Ooman."

"I… I'm sorry! I didn't mean… I shouldn't have... " Hannah stuttered, wriggling her fingers in his palm to readjust her hold.

"H'ko!" Thwei'dok'de barked forcefully, tugging her against his legs again by their hold on each other. "Guh'd. Str-awng hee-t. Guh'd Ooman. F-iight."

Hannah thumped against his body but didn't make a move to dart away. At first, she pressed her sweaty forehead to his lower abs where she'd punched, before slowly lifting her chin up and up his body to see him gazing down at her from his emotionless red visors. Her small chin pressed against him and her hot rapid breaths bathed his tightly layered scales. The Elder knew she was nervous of the outburst that he'd provoked but he couldn't have been more proud. His purrs kicked up to full force even though he knew it might be too much on her tiny little body.

Cupping the back of her head with his free hand, Thwei'dok'de tangled his thick fingers in her red hair and massaged her scalp while his purrs invaded, loosening her tense muscles and calming her erratic breathing. True to form, Hannah molded to his body. His legs, mostly, and reached around his hips with her free arm to hug him tightly as she slowly took back control of her nerves and lungs.

"Str-awng. Per-oud. Wee-sh wuh's m-eye puh-p."

Hannah's thin shoulders shook violently for a moment, and the Elder was almost alarmed, thinking he'd said the wrong thing in English. But then she squeezed tighter with the arm around him and squeezed his hand as if to crush it. His purrs dropped and leveled out, a low rumbled intensity as he held her to him. Lifting their joined hands, Hannah lifted her head and swallowed tightly before lacing their fingers together. Thwei'dok'de trilled and glanced at the joining. It was almost ridiculous to contemplate, the size difference alone, yet the strength in her small hand seemed to strengthen him.

"I wish you were my dad too," Hannah whispered. Despite the quiet of the hallway, his ears barely registered her words while his soul threatened to shatter and realign even stronger than before. His little Ooman pup saw him as more than an evolutionary superior. Even more than a ready protector. She saw him as a Sire. Thwei'dok'de whined low in his throat before he thought better of it and crushed her against him as he bent over, hugging her close.

"Sei-i," he rumbled. "Aw-ner-d." Maybe he was the pathetic soft touch that Bak'ub and Med'ka proclaimed, but right at this moment the Elder couldn't deny how he felt. Training had beaten most of his emotions out of him. He'd acknowledged that it was necessary, but now that he was older, much older than the others on his team, experiencing this _was_ an honor.

Hannah took in a shuddery breath and released it slowly as she lifted her head to gaze up at him. Her wide eyes were watery, but she smiled as brightly as any sun he'd ever seen. Gently she disengaged from his body, keeping hold of his hand the entire time, yet she stood solid and strong on her own two feet. Her scent registered confidence and pride and she put her thin set shoulders back and stood as tall as she could before him. Thwei'dok'de purred a little more.

"What does your name mean?" She asked him, as they finally continued their walk towards the bend in the hall up ahead.

"Suh-n ouf Bl-ud."

"Son of Blood?"

"Sei-i," he answered, glancing down at her small form. She met his gaze with an undefined expression but soon nodded and smiled at him again before starting to swing their joined hands between them as they went.

"My name's Hannah," she said.

"Huh-awn-uh," the Elder repeated, tilting his head at her. Hannah nodded and smiled even wider, swinging their hands even more than before. Thwei'dok'de didn't understand the meaning of the gesture. If she wanted free of him, she hadn't loosened her hold. If she wanted to walk faster, she wasn't tugging him along.

"Yeah, Hannah. It means 'God has favored me'. Kinda cool, right?"

Thwei'dok'de purred as they finally rounded the bend and came up against the first set of security doors. Slowing his gait, he squeezed Hannah's hand and nodded before looking down at her. "Sei-i, Eye buh-leev."


	6. Chapter 6

**I don't own Aliens/Predator. This will be the last chapter for awhile - I had 7 almost finished when I royally screwed up and saved over it so I lost everything. I'm devastated because it was exactly as I wanted it. *sigh* I will do my best to rewrite but I'm scared. This same thing happened on my first story and it still has me stumped, so I sincerely hope that Khalthar who has offered to be my Beta reader can help me. I get so angry at myself when these things happen, stupid mistakes, and it's a struggle to make it through. Rewriting will never be the same. I don't want it to be the end of me but it's hard to let go and redo knowing that what I had before was so right. Please forgive me and the delay from here on out. :(**

"D'do you like it?" The bushy girl stammered again for the second time. Med'ka still had yet to shake the feeling of fear from his nerves. His scaled skin rippled in reaction before his muscles followed suit. From head to toe he seemed to vibrate for a moment and he chuffed as he shook back his raised dreadlocks.

Sally staggered back until she blended with the rest of her classmates. Not lost perhaps, but mixed in with and maybe not so noticeable. Her bushy hair would always give her away, but once lost in the crowd she felt invisible.

Amber and Julie stayed resolutely up front with the large Yautja male. They weren't afraid. Sally wished she was like them. She'd been the one to draw the picture they bade her to show him, and now he seemed.. displeased. Rolling her plush lips inwards, she chewed on them with her teeth. Hopefully if he didn't like the drawing he'd rip it up instead of her, or her friends.

"Sally asked you a question, Bob." Julie demanded, standing firm in the face of a creature that was three or four times her height and even more in weight. She crossed her thin arms over her flat chest and stared at him steadily.

"Do you like it?" Amber countered from Julie's left, stepping up beside her and crossing her arms as well. The stand off was now two against one and the hesitant confidence pouring off the Ooman pups over balanced Med'ka. He chuffed again and shook out the paper drawing in his hand, forcing it firm rather than bent and limp. He already knew what it depicated. The etching and carvings on Prime were much better than this, but for pups of this age, the skill was still.. respectable.

"Sei-i," he grumbled and lowered the drawing, crossing his own massive arms across his chest. If they were looking for a comment about the paper, he'd given them one. Otherwise he was clueless.

Julie and Amber shared a look. The other pups in the room broke into whispers and murmurs, keeping their wide eyes on him even as their hands cupped their odd fleshy mouths hidden from view as they spoke amongst each other. Med'ka huffed and stepped a leg to the side to widen his stance. His audience gasped and tensed. Oddly, he was pleased.

"Sigh-eh," Amber countered akwardly. Julie the leader and brunette female nodded at her counter part. Med'ka growled low in his throat at their mangled attempt to mimick him.

"He likes it," Julie said over her tiny shoulder to Sally, who wasn't as lost in the crowd as she'd hoped. The espresso skinned youth bit her lips again and nodded at the brunette Julie.

Julie glanced again to Med'ka and seemed to take his measure, more thoroughly this time. He was.. tall. She wasn't sure of his exact measurement but tall covered it and he looked to weigh.. a lot.

His coloring was a light tan, almost buckskin at his center abdomen and darked toward his sides and back. Along his ribs and hips were strips of dark red, like brick. According to the color names on her crayons at least. His arms and legs were marked the same as the rest, with silvery sandals on his clawed feet. His mask and armor covered the rest, but she seemed to have seen enough as she wrinkled her pup like face and nodded at Amber.

Amber, a dirty blond female with thick riglets for hair and slightly shorter nodded back before daggering her young gaze at him and moving slowly towards the wall of art work. Med'ka continued his growl, glancing from the group close around him, to Julie, to Amber as she made her way stealthily to the wall like the bushy haired female had done.

She seemed to search among the myriad pictures, and for a moment Med'ka worried. He might not care a wit for Oomans, but these were pups in the truest sense of the word. Five, maybe six years of age? He couldn't be sure. In his Ooman education classes as a Young Blood he'd never been the brightest student. The upper vents still worried him. He couldn't forget hearing the face huggers skittering through, and now the young pup Amber was directly below it.

His red eyes were torn between watching the searching pup and the vents. Try as he might, from this distance, he couldn't hear the shuttling and shuffling as well as he could against the wall himself. His body tensed in readiness to strike incase one of the vent hatches popped open and a hugger sprang free. _It's because of the Code, _he thought to himself.

The pup Amber ripped down three other drawings, scanning her gaze along the rest before turning and making her way back to their inner circle. Med'ka's visor hidden gaze landed on the Julie pup, 'Dead Blood', and he growled at her directly. She'd never stopped staring at him in challenge. She had to know she was entirely too little to win any combat against him, yet she didn't stop nailing him in place with her expressive, predatory eyes. Chuffing the air, he scented her fear but it wasn't as thick as he would've expected. Did she really think she was a match for him? Med'ka huffed again.

Amber emerged past the throng of her classmates, looking as cool and composed as Julie, 'Dead Blood'. He didn't know her name yet and she influenced him the least. Darting his gaze to her with a bare cocking of his head, the pup faltered briefly in her steps as she approached him. She shared another look with 'Dead Blood'.

"Remember what Meg said," Julie advised, nodding at Amber before skewering Med'ka in place. "They don't hurt pups."

Amber drew a deep breath and nodded on the exhale, clearly not as confident as her partner. Med'ka didn't dare under estimate either pup. If they were in league, they had more in common than he knew. He'd taken 'Dead Blood's measure and if her counter part was anything like the brunette female staring him down, he might have a legitimate fight on his hands.

When Amber failed to close the distance, Julie frowned and spread her stance too. "They don't hurt pups. Do they?"

Clearly 'Dead Blood's comment was aimed at him yet he couldn't understand it. Having to rely on pitch and tone alone he was at a distinct disadvantage. They couldn't know that, and frankly he felt stupid for not updating his database. He hadn't felt that way when he first entered this room so why did he now? He growled.

Amber cleared her throat and looked nervously at Julie, who didn't look away from him. Without a visual cue to rely on, the dirty blond bit the inside of her cheek and kept stepping forward until she was directly infront of him. Med'ka tore his gaze from Julie, 'Dead Blood', and looked down at the little female before him. She held three other drawings in her small hands and shuffled them about for a minute, before resolutely offering them up to him.

Med'ka rumbled in his throat as he regarded her. She was slightly smaller than 'Dead Blood', and slightly more fearful though not much. Before taking the papers, he darted his gaze with a visual tilt of his head to Julie, their leader.

Julie met him head on and seemed to tense, as if interpreting his gaze as a challenge. Her small little body tensed and she openly frowned. Med'ka didn't like the turn of her fleshy lips. It wasn't attractive and set him on edge. Her smell was wrong too. He growled rather loud and allowed his dreadlocks to rise along his crest.

The crowd cowered around him though they only relinquished a step or two in distance. They locked arms with each other in a unified front as they murmured, keeping their gazes on him. He flexed slightly in pride. He was the alpha here.

'Dead Blood' however was having none of it. She yelled suddenly, making even Med'ka jump. "They don't hurt pups! Remember what Meg said. We're unarmed and don't want to hurt him. So he can't hurt us." The crowd of pups surrounding him broke into murmurs again, debating the wisdom perhaps as Amber froze and Julie continued to glare at him.

"Show him Amber," Julie said firmly. She hadn't fluctuated from her stance. Still firm, despite her small size. Med'ka was somewhat proud of that. If his pups turned out to be anything like 'Dead Blood', he'd be a proud male indeed. Unfortunately, the Bearer's had never seen fit to inform him of impending births. He had no doubt he had heirs, but their identity was unknown, perhaps forever. It was a Bearer's curtesy to inform the Sire, not a Sire's right.

Amber nodded and wet her thin lips before taking an additional and perhaps unneeded, step towards him. Looking up at his yellow visor'd mask, she gave a faint smile while shaking the drawings in her hand. Med'ka huffed and snatched the papers from her, much like he had from the bushy haired female, before settling in to view what they wanted him to see.

Each of the papers was porous in nature, the same as the first. Flicking back through his vision settings, he couldn't use the previous one on the first drawing of the three. Wondering why, he trilled to himself and clicked to the next which fit. This drawing was done in violet pencil, whereas the bushy one's drawing was done in red. Rumbling to himself, he scanned his eyes over the artwork. Unlike the first, this one was a view of trophy taking.

A Yautja, male, like him, with his own coloring in the Ooman's odd handiwork, crouched next to a hard meat kill. It was dead on its side with its forelegs curled in and its hindlegs slightly bent. The Yaut was crouched down with his ceremonial knife in hand, stabbing into its head to remove the soft meat from the skull. Though done in the same pup like hand, it was oddly reminiscent of his Chiva. Chortling, he flipped the paper back to view the next one.

The second was a female Yaut, replendant in her beauty of height and bulk as she sat atop a fallen log with her young Yaut son on her knee. He was colored much the same as Med'ka himself, with his arms outstretched towards the artist and his mandibles spread in welcome and exitement. Med'ka chuffed and shook his dreads, glancing at the young Ooman Amber and 'Dead Blood' in particular. Flipping to the third drawing, he exhaled and after that made no noise as his eyes devoured the amateur drawing. It was of a young Yaut, of his coloring, who challenged a male clearly above his standing.

Med'ka trilled and tilted his head. He'd experienced a similar situation as a youth. The young one in the picture, also of his coloring, stood in the challenge stance of wide legs, bent knees, outstretched arms and flared mandibles. The angle of the picture was from over the right shoulder of the older male who was green and tan, looking at him.

Why were these pups so focused on Yautja, and how could they know about him and his past? Trilling again, he lowered the pictures in his hands and watched 'Dead Blood' and her partner, Amber, before looking past them to the crowd. It was entirely possible and probable that these pictures, all four of them, weren't of him. They were from an Ooman pups imagination. Yet something had to guide their hand. Some could be blessed by Paya, perhaps, to see such events but Med'ka doubted it. 'Dead Blood' Julie was surely a candidate.

Tilting his head in her direction, he held up the three fanned images with the original forth in his other hand.

'Dead Blood' Julie nodded and smiled slightly, relaxing her stance as she debated. After a moment, a shared look with Amber and her classmates, she stepped up close to Med'ka and met his visor'd gaze as he looked down at her.

"You like our pictures," Julie said hopefully, "and we like you. See?" Reaching up a tiny hand, the pup tapped the edges of the three drawings he held as if wanting to bring his attention back to them. Or to take them away. Growling again, he snatched the images away from her grasp to hold them closer to himself and higher out of her reach.

Why he'd reacted that way he honestly didn't know and he didn't like it one bit. The longer he spent in this room surrounded by these Ooman's the less like himself he.. felt. It was uncomfortable and troubling yet had they no honor? By giving these ridiculous drawings to him they were making them a gift. Once a gift is given, it's dishonorable to take it back. No Yautja in good standing would dare attempt such a thing. They were his to keep. Wait.. did he want to keep them?

So lost in thought, he'd missed the collective reaction of the crowd to his sudden snatching of the papers away from 'Dead Blood'. While she herself and Amber stayed where they were, inches from his flesh, they did tense along with their classmates but they didn't gasp or seem to hold their breath as one, waiting for what he would do next.

Med'ka rumbled in confused indecision as he glanced from the papers to their small little faces and back again. He couldn't keep them. It was laughable on so many fronts that they all seemed to clamor in his mind to be first. For one, his team mates and Hunt Brothers back on the Clanship would simply never understand. If he dared to display them he'd have to explain himself countless times and honestly he wasn't sure he'd ever be able to now or in the distant future. Not with pride or certainty at any rate. These drawings would only bring him shame yet he still didn't drop them to the floor or return them.

Giving them back to 'Dead Blood' or her partner would bring dishonor up on himself and that didn't sit well either. Slightly twitching his tusks together in thought, he looked back at the drawings he held and what exactly they represented. They meant something to these Ooman's. They'd proudly displayed them on their wall and his gaze darted that way for a moment with another quick check of the vents above, before returning to the pictures he couldn't seem to deal with.

In addition to being proudly displayed, they'd been specifically selected out of hundreds to be presented to him. Did that make these the best in skill or merely the best in relevent subject matter now that he was in their midst? Med'ka couldn't say and it increased it frustrations. Snorting loudly, he shook both hands full of paper before turning his head in a wide arc, sweeping the pups all around him. Would they catch his meaning?

The assembly seemed confused, murmuring to each other as they all looked around. Amber glanced around too before sharing a look with Julie nervously. Julie however could always be counted on.

"Sally drew the first one," Julie said as she pointed without reaching towards the single paper Med'ka held in his left hand. Med'ka tilted his head at 'Dead Blood' and lifted the hand she indicated. Julie nodded before turning to scan the crowd around them, searching for Sally. The bushy haired female tried to hide behind a classmate but Julie was having none of it. Amber was slow to catch on but finally the dirty blond jerked into motion, hurrying into the crowd and catching hold of Sally's arm to bring her forward into the inner circle once more.

No amount of whimpering and heel digging would save Sally but she tried anyway as the more determined Amber hauled her up before the Yautja with a bit of a struggle. None of them spoke as Amber placed Sally in between herself and Julie, center stage to Med'ka's bulk and his emotionless mask.

The Yaut's frustration was slowly melting away into amusement as he watched the power play. He tilted his large head but otherwise stood still. For all of his posturing and vague threats to 'Dead Blood' and her partner, he knew that they'd work successfully against this fearful pup hauled before him for a second time. Clearly she was fearful and awkward. Any further attempts on his part would be dishonorable.

"This is Sally," Amber said as she kept an arm around the scared pup's shoulders. Whether in reassurance and protection or to guard against the pups instinctual retreat Med'ka didn't know. Silence descended up on the room.

"Sss'auh'lee," Medka rumbled after a time. Assuming that was the pups name? There was no phonetic likeness to any Yaut words so he was at another loss. Glancing at the pups before him for visual cues weren't helping either as they all seemed to wear the same frozen expression that he couldn't name. They scented of hesitancy.

"Yes, Sally!" 'Dead Blood' to the rescue. Med'ka darted his eyes to the obstinant little pup immediately and rumbled. "Sally," she said while pointing to the cowering pup, "drew" was the next word as Julie's pointing hand mimicked a scribbling or writing like motion in the air, "that," she ended with another point to the drawing in his left hand.

Lifting the drawing slightly, Med'ka again scanned it quickly before looking to the fearful Sally.

"Sally was the first one to draw you," Amber said to his right. She looked slightly unsure since she'd spoken, but she quickly took a deep breath and smiled a bit. "Mrs. Myer didn't like it though." Amber paused awkwardly and fidgeted before continuing. "She's our teacher?" Med'ka didn't understand a thing so he stayed silent. Amber took that as her cue.

"She wouldn't let Sally hang it up on the wall. It.. made her scared. 'Cuz.. you're an alien? And... big. And you.. kill people. Err I mean, you kill things." Sensing that she was going about it all wrong, Amber darted a worried gaze to Julie who nodded.

"Mrs. Myer didn't know how we knew about you but we knew that she knew.. about you, I mean. Not.. not you but like, your kind?" Amber stammered.

"Predators!" came a clarifying little voice from the crowd. The shouter was unknown as the gathering of students shifted nervously but they all seemed to nod their small heads in agreement. Med'ka was still lost.

"She got really upset at Sally," Amber kept on more nervously and unsure than before, darting her gaze around her classmates but especially at Sally herself under her sheltering small arm and Julie on Sally's other side. "She yelled at her in class a lot. She wanted to know why Sally drew it." Med'ka though he didn't understand could only follow along by their tone of voice, their scents and their body language. It was quite telling, if only he could be sure of the subject. He knew the name 'Sally' by now so they were obviously talking about the wilted pup between them.

Julie sighed loudly and rolled her eyes. Med'ka growled and angled his head her way, tightening his left hand into a fist. Not much, as he didn't want to openly show disrespect by ruining Sally's drawing but enough to force 'Dead Blood's point.

"He doesn't understand," Julie lamented to Amber, who looked disappointed and quickly shut up by tensing her fleshy mouth into a thin line and looking down at her feet, shuffling a bit against the scared Sally. "Look," Julie said with authority as she glared up at him. "Sally drew that." She pointed to Sally, then to the drawing.

Med'ka had figured that much out by now so he nodded and grunted, tilting his head the opposite way.

'Dead Blood' surprised him then. Without forwarning, she reached up with both hands to grab hold of his right wrist, in which hand he held onto the three newest drawings. Slightly startled, Med'ka growled at full volume in misunderstanding of the bold gesture. Fearing that the pup meant to take his gifts, he quickly lifted his arm high into the air.

Julie was tenacious and hung on like a monkey. Now dangling with her soft soled feet well off the ground as she started to yell at him or so he assumed, she began jerking her weight around as if to force his beefy arm back down to her level. 'Dead Blood' could keep that up for hours, for days, and still Med'ka's strength would keep her airborne. Did she realize that? He wasn't sure but he was quickly annoyed at the tiny female who continually challenged him.

Her classmates reacted instantly. Shouts and faint screams preceeding them, the group of forty strong converged on him like a honed hive as tiny hands grabbed on to Julie's legs to try and pull her back down while other hands beat about his legs. Med'ka roared at full volume and did a half turn, trying to force them back without actually striking.

"Stop!" Julie shrieked, her body being the rope in a tug of war as she refused to let go. "Stop, stop, stop! Listen to me!" When she got no real reaction besides further fervor and chaos, Julie screamed bloody murder at a child like pitch before wrenching a leg from her classmates and kicking Med'ka as hard as she could in his right armpit. The kick itself wasn't Yauta strength, but it packed enough punch to render Med'ka silent and still.

The cascading effect was instantaneous. Once he'd stopped roaring and moving, once Julie's scream die away into silence leaving only heavy breathing between them, the crowd quietly and slowly moved back a step or two. Med'ka was momentarily stunned, for lack of a better description. Jerking his head to 'Dead Blood' with a threatening low rumble, he met her determined, slightly scared but angry gaze head on.

In that moment of incredulous clarity, he could almost see the female that she'd eventually grow to become. Nothing would stop her. Not Ooman nor Yaut, not planet nor gender. He wasn't the best student in Ooman studies but he remembered enough to know that in their alien society, the males of the species held the ultimate rule and authority. They were the ones that were upheld with pride. The protectors, the hunters, the decision makers and policy holders. Ooman females had faught long and hard for their own rights and place among a male driven ecology but it was never enough.

Med'ka remembered studying it all with a sense of detached confusion. Ooman's were the direct opposite of Yautja, where females ruled and males were considered the lesser among the two. It never really seemed right to him. It felt uncomfortable to view a civilization and species that turned the tables. Primarily his kind hunted the Ooman males, in part because of their social structure, in part because a female Ooman's rage couldn't be clearly decided and in part due to respect of females being the Bearer's of future generations.

Amazingly enough he now stared the future generation in the face as it struggled to hold on, huffing and puffing, wincing and whining yet never once admitting defeat. At such a young age! Med'ka felt torn in his soul. Should he aid this little female or continue to battle her in his own way? If she was Yautja, aiding her would be seen as a sign of weakness and dishonor. Yet if he helped her because she was Ooman while acting with the spirit of a Yautja female, wouldn't that also be.. weakness?

Huffing to himself loudly and shaking out his still raised dreads, he settled on slowly moving his forearm closer to his torso. Not to aid 'Dead Blood' but to keep up the subtle battle. The top of her small head now hung at chin level and she stared at him intently, with murder in her scent and eyes if he gaged her correctly.

Trilling slightly, he flicked open the com link to Elder Thwei'dok'de and waited as the aggressive female continued to dangle from his arm. Her grip was strong, what he averaged for her species and age yet it was her tenacity and determination that had prompted his spurr of the moment call on the team leader. He was out of his element and unsure.

"Report," Thwei'dok'de barked up on answer.

"Honorable Warrior Med'ka, Elder. I am currently secured in a training room on Level 1, Corridor Two."

Julie glowered at the Yaut she hung from, constantly in doubt of her grip as her palms were sweaty so she kept having to jerk her body and readjust her hold on his thick wrist. Glancing down, she refused to cry out but guessed she was at least her own height or more off the floor. It would be a long fall! She knew her face had to be red, she could feel and hear her heartbeat in her ears and to make matters worse, she could hear the Yaut clicking, clacking and otherwise making noise.

Was he speaking to her? She couldn't understand, anymore than he seemed to understand them.

"What is your situation, Honorable Warrior?" the Elder replied.

"It is a training room, Honorable Elder. I heard noise in the upper vents, thinking it to be face huggers on the move. I investigated without results when the security door closed and locked."

The Elder rumbled through the com, but Med'ka could also hear a faint Ooman voice in the background. Trilling, Med'ka tilted his head while staring at 'Dead Blood' and listening.

"Are you by yourself?" the Elder queried, before a more hushed sound of him replying to an Ooman faded.

"No Elder," Med'ka stated, "I am housed with at least... ," quieting, he darted his visor'd gaze around him quickly in a head count of visuals and scents. "Forty young Ooman pups, all female. There is no Ooman adult present. They are alone."

"Only forty?" the Elder came back, clearly surprised.

"Yes Elder, about forty. All are female. Estimating age, between five or six years." Why was the Elder surprised? Was the number high or low in his experience of the complex thus far?

"I don't know what you're saying!" Julie accused, curling her upper lip as her physical strength was waning when put to the test of hanging onto him. "Do you know charades?"

"Charades?" the Elder chortled in amusement, clearly teasing Med'ka as he'd heard the pup through the com. "Do you know what the little one asks?"

"No Elder," Med'ka grumbled, firmly shaking his right arm in discipline of 'Dead Blood' for interrupting his call. The small female gave a small cry of alarm, scrambling to keep her hold on his wrist as her body danced to and fro.

"Do you have an updated database of Ooman language?"

"No Elder," Med'ka replied, refusing to sound angry even though it's what he felt. The silly Ooman still dangled from him like a _cht'lp_, a very furry mammal from a distant planet.

"I thought not," Thwei'dok'de quiped with amused superiority. "You and Bak'ub have never cared much for Ooman's despite the necessity of having a complete database."

Med'ka merely huffed and hiked the dangling pup higher until she was eye level with his visors.

"Put me down! Let me down right now!" Julie shrieked, trying to kick out again with her shoed feet. She only managed to connect with his armored chest so Med'ka snorted and chuffed at her, shaking his dreads and scenting the air. Oh this one was angry alright. Had she been a Yautja female, he'd be bloody already. Why did this one wait to inflict damage?

The Elder chortled openly now, at full volume. Med'ka snorted and clacked his tusks together. He must have heard 'Dead Blood' shouting. Despite himself, he felt embarrassed even as he heard Ooman intervention from the Elder's side of the com. "Are you married?" The unknown female voice said. Med'ka couldn't understand it, but his Elder's laughter cut off abruptly. Med'ka was intrigued and trilled into the com in question.

"Have you encountered any hard meats?" the Elder gruffed out.

"No Elder," Med'ka clarified. "I heard what I thought was face huggers in the vent system but as of yet none have burst through or caused a problem. I've been monitoring," he added in a slight rush, darting his gaze to the wall.

The Elder trilled before being cut off by the Ooman on his end, "So you're single then?" Thwei'dok'de growled in his throat. Med'ka couldn't understand but he knew enough to know that his Elder was flustered. He trilled again and tilted his masked face while watching 'Dead Blood'. She was still hanging from his arm to the gasps and low murmurs of her classmates but seemed to be formulating some kind of plan as she met his gaze.

"Face huggers are not to be ignored. They pose a huge risk to the pups in this complex, perhaps even more danger than the full grown adults. Since you're secured in an area with many pups, I order you to stand your position."

"Yes Elder," Med'ka confirmed. "The only access point that I've identified thus far are the vents. They're in tact right now and the main door is securely locked. There's a large window bank behind me but it's pristine. I'll continue to guard over the pups.. in my care," he muttered, "since I'm unable to escape without trying."

"Affirmative, Honorable Warrior Med'ka. The forty pups in your care are your sole responsibility. Do not, I repeat, do not attempt to break out of the room. If they're as young as you say, you're their only means of survival."

"Agreed, Elder," Med'ka said. "But.."

The Elder trilled into the com, with some background noise of beeps, hisses and angry curses following some hollow metallic banging. Med'ka trilled again despite himself and glanced at 'Dead Blood'. Smart little Ooman, she wasn't satisfied with merely dangling anymore. Now she was traveling, hand over hand, along the length of his arm from his wrist towards his body like he was some kind of training equipment. Feeling her grip and shifting weight, he rumbled.

"But what, Honorable Warrior?" the Elder questioned, afterwards purring to the Ooman he was with.

"What does 'charades' mean, Elder?"

"Are you talking to me or not? I don't understand!" Julie proclaimed in pure silence of her classmates as they watched her scale the Yaut like the monkey bars they all played on in the complex's shared gymnasium.

Thwei'dok'de chortled again, clearly having heard the pup in the background. "Charades is a game. It doesn't use vocalizations but rather hand and body gestures to convey meaning. Your pup must know that you don't understand her, or her you, if she's suggesting such. After this mission, you must update your Ooman database. That's an order."

"Agreed, Honorable Elder," Med'ka replied with thoughtfulness and a touch of irritated embarrassment. "Communication thus far has been.. hindered. I was given gifts."

Julie having finally scaled the length of his impressive arm, ran up against his body with slight confusion. Wetting her fleshy lips, she narrowed her strained gaze on his mask before thrusting her lower skirted body out to make contact. When her short little legs made contact around his waist, Med'ka barked out a loud noise that made her freeze.

"Gifts?" the Elder trilled. Med'ka had no doubt that he was intent on the background noise of 'Dead Blood's arrival and his distress. Seeking to cover his nervousness, Med'ka replied rapidly.

"Yes Elder, gifts. One little pup gave me a picture drawing on Ooman paper. Then another pup gave me three more. They depict Yaut males in various scenes of life and combat. They.. looked like me."

Thwei'dok'de rumbled through the com with some static before pausing. In the background, Med'ka could hear him conversing with his own Ooman pup. Should he ask about the Elder's hanger on? He was curious enough. His own little _cht'lp_ had a hard grip around him with her thin legs and was currently reaching out with her right arm to hook around his neck. Tensing immeasurably, he did nothing to aid her as she grabbed hold with that arm and then the other.

"Honor the gifts, Honorable Warrior," the Elder stated. "The pups seek your guidence, your protection and your compassion. They are small. Not long from the womb. They seek connection. Do not disappoint them."

"Sei-i, Elder." Med'ka murmured as he now found himself face to face with 'Dead Blood' as she clung to his body like a vine plant from a distant planet. Her thin little legs were strong and sure about his upper waist. He knew her ankles couldn't meet behind him yet her thighs kept her upright regardless as her arms wound about his neck tightly. She was breathing heavily from her exertion, her heat signature a brighter red yet otherwise she was quietly staring him directly in his mask.

"Where is your little Ooman?" the Elder asked. In the background, Med'ka could hear the triple beep of software before a loud pressurized whooshing sound flooded through the com followed by a young Ooman yell of triumph.

"She is... ," Med'ka paused with gravity as he swung his large head to the right, directly in the line of sight of 'Dead Blood'. She was quiet now, still breathing heavily through her mouth with round wide eyes and a rapid heartbeat. Skirted, he could feel her lower legs encased in a soft covering behind his back while her thighs gripped him with solid if tremulous strength. She was warm, perhaps warmer than him as her thin arms stayed circled around his neck like shackles. Her hips, the middle of her body's weight centered on his right side, barely above his right hip and it felt... comfortable. Natural. Odd.

"She is what, Honorable Warrior?" Thwei'dok'de trilled, while in the background his own young Ooman was kicking up a fuss of excited and animated vocal tones. His Elder grunted once, twice, as if hesitant or tugged along grudgingly.

"She is.. wrapped around me, Elder." Med'ka stated with curiosity, shame and pride in his voice as he scooped his right forearm behind the Ooman pup's backside to support her in hanging on. His hand still clung to the three drawings.

The Elder paused before rumbling in his throat, clacking his tusks incoherantly before speaking. "She clings to you as if you are her Bearer?"

Med'ka considered the implication before answering. 'Dead Blood' was indeed in his arms. His right arm, actually. Naturally he supported her backside but it was her sheer will and muscle power that kept her attached. Slowly she seemed to relax, her torso at least though her limbs themselves never waivered from their cling, despite the trembling of her fatigued muscles. She was so strong. Ropey and reedy for her age, yet resolute. Her face was merely inches from his mask, her breathing yet to fully calm as she continued to regard him with large eyes and strong scents.

"Sei-i," Med'ka admitted in grudging wonder, hoping that his Elder could educate him. "Her legs are about me, her arms are around my neck. My arm is beneath her and she... stares at me with wide eyes. I do not understand, Elder."

Thwei'dok'de didn't answer for several seconds, currently dealing with his own Ooman. Med'ka didn't understand their noises and he regretted not having a database even more as each strained second passed. On the Elder's end, Med'ka could hear the laughter of the pup, it was bubbly and full of life, it even had a slight echo which could be caused by the structure itself but he didn't know for sure. The Elder purred soothingly and chortled again.

"She is young, Honorable Warrior Med'ka, it is her natural instinct to cling and seek comfort. We are not female. Yaut or Ooman, but the pups don't care about that. We are adult. Full grown. Trained, strong and virile. To them we represent protection, guidence and Sirehood which is unknown to us. This is a rare opportunity indeed." The pride in the Elders voice was unmistakeable and for a moment, slightly sickening to Med'ka. He wasn't a fan of Ooman's, pups or otherwise though he had no experience with their young. Even less than their adults.

"I do not understand, Elder!" He stressed with multiple clacks of his tusks as he remained in place. Pulling his gaze from 'Dead Blood', regretfully, he scanned her counterparts in the room quickly. Amber still held young Sally in front of him, though instead of an arm around her shoulders Amber now held her hand firmly. The other pups were still tightly circled around him but their scents came across as more.. aggressive. They glared at him with various levels of suspicion, angst and distrust. They didn't trust him with 'Dead Blood' he realized. What should he do?

Before Thwei'dok'de could respond, he continued in a rush. "The female pup, 'Dead Blood', Gwei'lei, clings to me. Her peers surround me. They do not trust. Gwei'lei is the only aggressive. She challenges, she counter acts, she disagrees. She is a pup that I can't discipline while maintaining honor. Elder, what should I do?"

Julie in the meantime had settled even more against Med'ka. His various noises and vibrations had relaxed her body, his supporting arm didn't drop away as her tired legs grew weak and failed to fully support her. He seemed.. distressed. Upset. Frowning, Julie tried to reason what the cause was. She couldn't see his face due to his mask yet he knew she was hanging from his arm like an ornament. She was fearful to drop to the ground when he wouldn't lower her, so she had no choice but to move towards his body and cling to him as she was now.

Okay so maybe she shouldn't have grabbed onto his wrist, but she didn't know how else to make her point! He didn't understand English. How was she to know he'd lift her in the air like a crane? Sighing, Julie readjusted her arms around the Yaut's stong, thick armored neck and rested the side of her sweaty head against his shoulder.

"I'm sorry," Julie murmured softly with half closed eyes. "I'm so tired."

Thwei'dok'de heard the little pup, and rumbled again through the com, translating with seriousness. Med'ka huffed, his rapid chest rise and fall stirring Julie yet it didn't seem to worry her overly much.

"Switch to speaker," the Elder ordered firmly and Med'ka quickly scrambled to obey. Flicking his mandibles out inside his mask to tap various buttons, until a static like white noise filled the air on his end followed by a light scratchy silence.

"What is your name," the Elder barked. Med'ka tensed and growled in reaction before answering.

"Honorable Warrior Med'ka," he stated. His puffed chest arching against Julie's, making her snuggle more against him.

"Aw-ner-bull Wor-ee-or Mm-ed-ka," the Elder grumbled in stuttering English. Med'ka couldn't understand it, and he doubted it would work yet when 'Dead Blood' seemed to whimper and sigh, cuddling her small body against his, he relaxed.

"Honorable Warrior... Medka." Julie murmured with closed eyes, her lips barely moving.

"Sei-i, ye-es," the Elder rumbled. "Ter-ust Mm-ed'ka. Nawt arm oo."

"Yes," Julie sleepily repeated. "Trust Medka. Not harm you." In reaction, her thin little arms tightened more about his neck as she burrowed her small body closer. Fully exhausted, her full weight was reliant now on his supportive right arm. Med'ka could be trusted, as he counter balanced her, tensing his arm to support her feeble weight.

"Elder?" he questioned with a slight anxiety to his tone.

"Quiet!" Thwei'dok'de replied, quickly lowering his tone to a purring resonance. "Mm-ed-ka per-oh-teh-ct. Ss-afe."

"Medka protect," Julie murmured, nuzzling her face against his neck. Her forehead smooth yet slightly sweaty connecting with the skin above his neck guard. "Safe."

"Sei-i," the Elder purred, "ye-es."

"Yes," Julie repeated as she adjusted her body a final time before falling asleep. The tiny fingers of one hand found their way up between the roots of his dreadlocks while the other locked his neck at the back in the crook of her thin elbow. Murmuring incoherantly in her sleep, she allowed her full weight to lay against him.

Med'ka was impressed. He didn't know if it was him that put the fiesty pup to sleep, her entire ordeal as a whole or the reassurance of his Elder but regardless, it worked. While her weight was nothing to support, he was wary to move for risk of waking her. Still holding the pictures, he transfered the paper from his left hand to his right, making four, before cautiously laying his left hand along her upper back. He could feel the slight rise and fall of her chest.

"She sleeps. Elder. Before she was so angry. Now she rests. Is this normal?"

"Sei-i," his Elder replied with a fondness in his voice. "She has been under stress, no doubt. She trusts you. From the first, she challenged you?"

"Sei-i," Med'ka answered immediately, spreading his large fingers over the back of the sleeping pup. He could feel the heat of her small body even through his armor. Trilling, his glided his hand upwards into the base of her hair as he surveyed the crowd. Amber and Sally continued to watch him warily, darting their eyes quickly from him to 'Dead Blood' and back again. The larger group behind them and all around him broke out into whispered conversation, many of them allowing themself to sit down. Perhaps in the same exhaution as 'Dead Blood', he wasn't sure.

"Protect her. She is leader. She is strong."

"Elder," Med'ka hesitated as he finally flicked a mandible to cut off the speaker of his com link. "I am unsure." The pup in his arm was negliable at best in terms of a burden. Her warmth, her bravery and determination left him feeling.. unsettled. He'd allowed her extremely close. Within kill range though she had no weapon.

"Unsure of what, Med'ka?" His Elder huffed in annoyance as the grating bounce of catwalk was heard in the background.

"I don't know, Elder.. I feel." Med'ka sighed loudly before startling. The pup Amber had made a move towards him, her free hand outstretched towards 'Dead Blood' as if to touch. Growling loud, he took a step backwards without thought, twisting his upper body away from the touchy female. Quickly she gasped and frowned, settling her arms around Sally.

"Protective?" The Elder questioned with amusement. "Normal. Protect your tiny female and her peers. You will do fine." The sheer confidence in Thwei'dok'de's voice helped to settle some of Med'ka's nerves as he continued to growl low in his throat at the crowd around him, sweeping his large hand up and down 'Dead Blood's back in slow motion.

"Have you heard from the others?" the Elder asked.

"H'ko," Med'ka rumbled. "I have not Elder. None but you."

"Hm," Thwei'dok'de rumbled. "I've heard from you, Ker'ak'de and Bak'ub. Aside from you, only Ker'ak'de has reported having any dealings with Oomans enmass. I lost contact with him when he was attacked but I'm making my way to his last known location now."

"Attacked, Elder?" Med'ka startled, hiking the sleeping 'Dead Blood' further up on his shoulder as he hugged her close with his left arm, gaze panning over the others with an ongoing low rumbling growl. The smart little Ooman mass gasped and backed up another half step, otherwise standing strong in their circle around him.

"Sei-i, Med'ka, attacked. Not with weapons, but they trounced him none the less. I think the Ooman's were being herded by the hard meats, forced to go in specific directions and by chance they happened up on Ker'ak'de. I don't know for certain but I mean to find out, soon." Med'ka could hear the determination in his Elder's low tone.

"No weapons," Med'ka clacked, again surveying the pups around him with multiple clicks through his vision settings. While they were all dressed in skirts and blouses, none of the bodies currently in the room held a weapon. Slightly relaxing, he tilted his head against 'Dead Blood's without fully realizing it.

"H'ko, no weapons. You haven't heard from Th'ron and Sy'kl then? Nor Gwan'thwei?"

"H'ko Elder, I have not. I haven't heard from anyone besides you. Do you fear for the Young Bloods?"

"Not fear, no." Thwei'dok'de paused as if considering. Soon after another low purr could be heard as the Ooman he was with giggled in the background. "Thank you, Honorable Warrior Med'ka. Your report is noted and your tasks issued. Carry on. If further assistance is needed, or reports are to be made, you have but to call."

"Many thanks, Elder. Good hunting." Med'ka said sincerely. His Elder trilled before the link disconnected.

Now what was he supposed to do? Grunting a loud, he twitched his mandibles and rocked the sleeping pup in his arms.


	7. Chapter 7

**New chapter is up! Originally this was supposed to be split between the twins and Ker'ak'de but I lost it and had to rewrite. When I do that, nothing at all turns out the same and this time these boys wanted their spotlight so I had to give it to them. Next chapter, 8, is Ker'ak'de and back on track with split chapters to keep things rolling. I don't own or make money from Aliens/Predator but the humans are mine. Contains humor, feeling and action!**

Sy'kl watched his brother Th'ron, older by just an hour, with great amusement. Crammed though they both were inside an Ooman elevator that was on the rise, it wasn't the technology or the ride itself that seemed to captivate Th'ron. No, it was the Ooman music that continued to filter from small speakers all around them.

The sound was odd to their ears by nature. Tinkling, flowing and entirely comprised which was the purpose, Sy'kl knew, but Th'ron was simply spell bound as he stood stock still with his head cocked to the side. If it wasn't for the regular rhythm of his breathing, Sy'kl might've thought Th'ron a sudden statue.

It wasn't a condition that Sy'kl had ever experienced his brother in so perhaps, in turn; Sy'kl himself was just as entranced. They were twins after all, which was bad enough in their superstitious society but to add insult to injury they were also identical in every way except personality. Trilling softly behind his mask, Sy'kl kept watch on his brother but otherwise didn't fight the memories as they slowly rose up from the depths. Odd, since that's how elevator's worked.

Amused at himself momentarily, Sy'kl shook out his dreads and attempted to shift his weight in the tightly packed cabin. It wasn't easy. Between them as brothers, neither wanted to assume the lead role despite Th'ron being the more physical and violent of the two. Sy'kl, always rooted in logic and intelligence as his own base line could understand that.

Th'ron had been born first. He was the one most entitled to everything but because they were identical to the point that even their frustrated Bearer couldn't tell them apart, Sy'kl had been able to share almost evenly with him. That included the bad, too. If Th'ron suffered a tantrum in their youth and stormed off, their Bearer would spot Sy'kl and simply assume.

Exactly how many times each brother had received punishment for the other by pure accident, Sy'kl couldn't say but as he grew it often left a bad taste in his maw. Shame, frustration, sadness. Innately he knew Th'ron felt the same. Neither of them ever suffered regret or anger for taking reprimand that wasn't their own, but to be born as such that their own Bearer couldn't tell them apart quickly became depressing and insufferable.

As an experiment shortly before they reached the age of training and leaving home, they'd tried altering their appearance since merely expressing their personalities wasn't enough for identification. Th'ron took to binding feathers and trinkets to his dreads while Sy'kl merely bound his back with a sinew tie at his nape. That distinguish had worked, all too well.

Unfortunately, it favored Th'ron. Sy'kl clearly marked for the first time physically since pup hood had showcased him as the second born, the instant weaker of the two though he wasn't. Fights, taunts and bullying were frequent. He could fight his way out of scrapes as easily as Th'ron, but the ratio was now clearly skewed. While Sy'kl battled physically, Th'ron suffered from his own end to be labeled the dumb one, though he clearly wasn't.

Th'ron had excelled in schooling but being the more physical of the two, of his own accord, he'd quickly developed the reputation as a bruiser and a brawn to match Sy'kl's as a brainiac physical push over. Th'ron was merely labeled dumb but Sy'kl was labeled for beatings. Not long after, they'd both agreed to abandon their trademarks and return to looking indistinguishable from the other. Th'ron's reputation for intelligence now shared with Sy'kl's and Sy'kl's physical prowess now shared with Th'ron, lent them a better measure of peace even if it did cost them potential friends and allies.

Not that they had a lot of those, either. Snorting behind his mask, Sy'kl shifted his weight again to knock into his brother and Th'ron was quick to knock back out of impulse. The gesture raised Sy'kl's spirit and he trilled. Twins would always be seen as a bad omen with mistrust, distance and dark looks commonplace. There was nor would there ever be help for that but the brothers had each other and for them, it was more than enough.

"Stop staring at me," Th'ron rumbled after a time.

"I cannot help it brother, you seem to be enjoying yourself."

Th'ron snorted. "So what if I am? What is this noise we must listen to?"

"It is not noise. It is called moo-sick." Sy'kl trilled and angled a glance at his brother.

"Moo-sick? Stupid Ooman word, no doubt." Th'ron snorted and moved to cross his arms in front of his chest. There wasn't room for that of course, not easily. Instead of one brother standing before the other, they'd mutually agreed to stand side by side as much as possible in any enclosure and situation. This one meant their shoulders were jammed together while the opposite was wedged uncomfortably into the front corners. At least it left them facing mostly forwards, as equals.

"True," Sy'kl relented, "it is not of our culture. There are no drums though there is everything else."

"Meaning what, brother? Besides drums, what else is there to make this moo-sick?"

"I do not know. But you seem to enjoy it just the same. Why?" Sy'kl trilled again, curious.

Th'ron grunted and firmed up his stance, jostling against Sy'kl again as the lit up Ooman buttons on the control panel continue to wink out and turn on signaling the levels they were passing.

"My Ooman studies reference database has concluded that this is Ooman moo-sick by Ch-eye-cough-sky. The Ooman moo-sick maker was male and renowned. Does this not please you? You seem pleased, brother."

"I am not pleased. What kind of name is Ch-eye-cough-sky? Ridiculous. It makes no more sense than the night insects on our hunt planets. Annoying, chaotic." Th'ron huffed and shot a glare to the speakers just above the door. "Does this silly Ooman still live? If so, I would take great pleasure in taking his skull. His skin might make a decent drum, once dried."

Sy'kl said nothing for a moment, merely studying his brother's profile in amusement and contemplation. His muscles were tense, his posture now rigid and he emitted a thickening scent of anger and embarrassment. Instead of feeling chagrined at questioning his brother, Sy'kl merely took heart and pressed the issue.

"Ch-eye-cough-shy perished many hundred years ago, Ooman time on their back water planet. Unless you plan to visit the Ooman homeland to dig up his remains I'm afraid that isn't possible, brother. But..."

Th'ron growled out his anger this time, chuffing at the end with a toss of his dreads. "I do not, as you well know brother. Lucky for the Ooman that he is dead. I crave drums, not this drivel."

"But you enjoy the sound of night insects when we hunt. You forget, I am your brother and know you like no other. You sleep so soundly that not even a wrist bomb could wake you."

"I'd be dead brother, if a bomb went off." Th'ron droned.

"Not true," Sy'kl trilled with more amusement. "It happened once, before the last mating cycle. Someone detonated on the ridge across the way. The blast itself didn't reach us, but the sound did. You never stirred. The night insects were particularly loud there." Sy'kl quieted in thought, trying to recall the planet's name.

"And how would you know?"

"Because I was the watch, remember brother? It was Jyl'ka."

"Jyl'ka was an idiot. He probably lost his ki'cti-pa and resorted to self destruct. He was the type." Th'ron huffed.

Sy'kl trilled again in thought. "This is true." For a time, he was quiet as the elevator continued to ride up. Not wanting to deal with their team mates and their superstitious attitudes, the brothers had opted for Level 16 once they'd entered the elevator car. Anything to get away from the harassment and accusing glances. "But you still enjoy the insects. I do too. There's no shame. You can enjoy the Ooman moo-sick. It doesn't grate on the nerves."

Th'ron gruffed and risked a glance up at the speaker vents again. "It reminds me of the insects. The scissoring of their wings and hind legs. It still doesn't mean that the moo-sick is good. There are no drums."

Sy'kl didn't comment on that but stood a little straighter and preened. Th'ron glanced at him and snorted.

Suddenly, the elevator stopped. It was a peculiar sensation, almost like zero gravity that left them trying to dig into the floor with their toe claws before their weight jostled back down with a shudder of the track. Sharing a look between themselves, they turned their heads towards the control panel.

"Have we arrived?" Th'ron queried, confused.

Sparing an extra second to actually analyze the panel, Sy'kl trilled and shook his head. "No brother, we have not. We're stopped between Levels Thirteen and Fourteen."

Th'ron was clearly waiting for a more detailed explanation as he stayed quiet and kept watching his brother. After a few seconds of silence and another curious trill from Sy'kl, Th'ron grunted impatiently. "So why have we stopped?"

"I don't know." Sy'kl said, as if that explained everything.

"Well can you find out?"

"I can try, brother." Sy'kl reached a hand for the control panel of buttons and repeatedly pressed the one labeled '16'. When nothing happened, he trilled and mashed the stubborn button with his thumb before glancing at the digital display just above the door. The read out still flashed '13' on the left before it disappeared and '14' appeared on the right in a looped cycle.

"Try harder," Th'ron droned again.

"If I press any harder brother, the panel will surely break. Ooman's do not use our materials in their technology. It is fragile."

Th'ron exhaled a gusty, resigned sigh and let his shoulders droop slightly. "While I trust in your intelligence with my life Sy'kl, it is your common sense that leaves me in doubt. How else can we fix this machinery?"

"I suppose your solution would be to bust through the exit hatch in the ceiling or blast a hole through the floor?" Since Sy'kl's words were said with familiarity rather than accusation, Th'ron didn't bristle. He did feel awkward, however.

"Whatever works, brother. Unless you prefer to be trapped in this infernal space and return to the Clan ship without trophies. We need more of them if we're to finally have a successful mating season next time." The last one had ended in failure for the both of them and was a sad sore spot for Th'ron in particular, since he'd failed to attract a single female's attention.

"I almost mated," Sy'kl commented mostly in reaction to the statement than actually thinking it through. He was too busy studying the control panel and filtering through mask settings, trying to figure out how to get them moving again. "She was a very beautiful female, resplendent in her form and very needy."

Th'ron growled, as much annoyed by the story he knew Sy'kl was dying to tell as he was by the faint vibrations and far away rumble of sound he thought he heard. Looking to the ceiling and scanning rapidly, he could detect nothing as of yet. Sy'kl as always seemed oblivious and carried on in his jovial, cheery way.

"I had grappled her into position but before I could breach, she'd thrown me off with great force." Sy'kl paused then in his tinkering and idle pressing of various other buttons, toying with the idea of popping off the wiring panel just below. "I hit the ground hard on my back. It was amazing, despite the fact that she'd hit me in the chest so hard I couldn't breathe." Pausing then in his story to reminisce, Sy'kl quickly trilled and shook out his dreads. "Through my chest plate! She was glorious."

"Quiet," Th'ron commanded in a low tone, his senses now fully absorbed in the rumbling of their surroundings. Their small cabin had begun to vibrate noticeably now and a metallic like grating whine was echoing all around them, making it difficult to pinpoint the exact location of the ominous sound.

"I was getting back to my feet when Hruk'de roared from somewhere," Sy'kl carried on, completely lost in his mind. "He was challenging me but I wasn't surprised. I made to charge him but he spun aside and rushed the female. Of course he subdued her in no time at all." He huffed, irritated and even had to brace a hand against the cabin wall when he'd sunk to his haunches because their space was rattling, unstable and knocking about.

"Quiet!" Th'ron commanded again, louder this time to be heard over the thunderous noise quickly gaining on them. His scans picked up the source, easing his anxiety somewhat. It was a run away utility elevator running parallel to Level Fourteen, over their heads, instead of vertically as their car was designed. It was either heavily loaded down or speeding out of control on its tracks, Th'ron couldn't be sure but it wasn't long before the electrical system in their cabin started to malfunction more noticeably than just the car stopping in its tracks.

"I was dismayed of course, what blooded Yaut wouldn't be?" Sy'kl huffed again and finally popped the wiring panel free below the Ooman button display, noting the set up, chips and wire connections with a far away concentration. "He mounted and mated her but she wasn't happy. Not at all. The coupling was... quick. Very quick. I wasn't surprised when she turned on Hruk'de in anger and shoved him to the floor as well the very second he was done."

"Be quiet!" Th'ron roared, knowing his brothers propensity for retreating inwards and away from reality. Their car was shaking violently now, rocking on its track, bobbing a good five or six inches up and down as the rumbling grew louder and almost directly over head. The lighting flickered chaotically before shorting out, the wiring panel now open sparked, flared and sizzled as various chips and circuits shorted out and died completely. The roaring noise was intolerable, straining the capacity of their ears and making Th'ron's vision swim behind his mask.

"I think I understand Hruk'de's attitude more now," Sy'kl was saying, clueless to their predicament until the sparks and flares started. He'd been currently plucking chips from the motherboard when a particularly nasty overload exploded, zapping him until he roared in surprise and pain, falling back onto his ass in the cabin with singed fingers and raised dreads, his body smoking slightly along with the control panel he'd been fiddling with.

"QUIET!" Th'ron thundered, his loudest voice failing to rise above the grinding metallic shrieking overhead. Twisting, he dropped himself over his brother. Falling to his knees, he grappled Sy'kl's shoulders in his hands and grabbed him tightly to his own chest plate in a protective position. Sy'kl was breathing heavily now and tucked up his knees as far as he could, burrowing against and under his brother with a bruising strength of his left arm around Th'ron's hips.

"Do you think we'll die, brother?" Sy'kl shouted, he had to, to be heard over the deafening noise.

Th'ron purred deeply, unsure if Sy'kl would hear it but knowing that he'd feel it. It was something both of them had often taken a lot of flack for. Males only purred to upset females, not each other, but they were twins. It was as natural as breathing to the brothers when one of them was disturbed and no amount of barbed teasing could kill the instinct. "I don't know Sy'kl," Th'ron rumbled against his brother's ear. "But if we do, we go together."

Sy'kl trilled happily though there was a slight edge to it that Th'ron knew was apprehension. He wasn't sure himself of what would happen. His scans showed a clear path for the run away elevator overhead but the physical effects it was causing made him pause seriously. If their cabin's breaks gave out they'd plummet for sure and if not, they could be stuck in this box without power or a way to really rescue themselves if they couldn't do it before the utility car circled back around again.

"What about his attitude?" Th'ron rumbled against his brother's ear, his masked face plastered to the side of his younger siblings head. Neither of them could keep their balance at this point, despite Sy'kl sitting and Th'ron squatting. Both of them jostled against each other, knocking and tilting as metal groaned, squealed and grated all around.

"He had a very small," Sy'kl was interrupted as he slammed his right side against the cabin's wall with a grunt before rebounding against his brother. Th'ron dug in against the floor, catching the weight and balancing it. "Reproductive member."

After a pause, Th'ron chortled behind his mask and gripped his younger brother even closer than before. He knew his claws had to be digging into Sy'kl's right bicep but his brother never complained, merely leaning closer and holding tighter around his waist. Sy'kl's own claws cut into his lower side but he grunted and otherwise withstood it.

"When Hruk'de fell, his torn loincloth fell aside and I saw him. He has a very, very small organ. I assume that in conjunction with the rapidly quick coupling, the female's ire led her to strike out before she stormed away."

"You think that is why Hruk'de is such a pauk'de?" Th'ron trilled, as the car gave way another few inches in a fall that had him hauling Sy'kl into the far corner and literally crowding over him. One arm wrapped around his brothers drawn up knees while the other braced the back wall, his back the only shield between them and a collapse before free fall in the pitch black.

"Sei-i, I do!" Sy'kl shouted over the piercing sounds, his torso twisted to bury his masked face into the crook of his brother's shoulder as both arms braced supportingly around Th'ron's waist. "Brother...?"

"Sei-i?" Th'ron purred, forcing Sy'kl into an even tighter ball in the corner with his arm about his knees.

"I'm sorry that you cannot hear the Ooman moo-sick anymore."

Th'ron's purr lowered in frequency, vibrating more than ever as he scooted closer. His right knee tucked up under his brothers, forming a more perfect dome over the young Yaut by instinct.

"I'm sorry that you couldn't mate that beautiful female. You're worthy, brother." Th'ron rumbled out across Sy'kl's ear, and his brother relaxed slightly in his hold. Meanwhile the utility elevator overhead finally passed in a vicious whirr and grind, the duct suction lifting their cab a good foot before dropping it back to roll and bounce on its barely holding track wheels. After a few seconds the rumbling and loud noise faded, leaving only a silence that was thick with tension.

"Brother?" Sy'kl yelled, still keeping the same volume to his voice as before. "What was that all about?"

"C'jit," Th'ron scoffed, jerking back enough to save his ears and cuff his brother hard on the head. "A utility elevator, you pauk'de, but it's gone now so stop shouting!"

Sy'kl growled immediately and shoved hard at Th'ron, forcing his twin to stumble back while still in a crouch before he hit the opposite cabin wall with a thrumming thud and abrupt sit down on his ass. The elevator bounced on its track again.

"You test my patience, brother." Th'ron rumbled, awkwardly pushing himself to his feet in the cramped space before offering a hand down to Sy'kl. "Now get up and fix this Ooman machinery before we do perish."

Sy'kl continued to growl, apparently not as forgiving as he usually was once one of their rare spats was over. He continued to glare while Th'ron continued to stand tall with his hand out. After a time, Sy'kl grunted and slapped palms with his brother to haul himself up. "Agreed. To perish before mating would be a shame."

Th'ron trilled curiously once they'd released each other and he stood back, as much out of the way as his bulk would allow as Sy'kl knelt again in front of the fried panel, poking around and popping off another metal compartment door near the floor.

"When spoken that way, I can see your point brother but what prompted you to say such a thing? It is no secret that many Young Bloods meet Cetanu before they are able to mate."

Sy'kl trilled, working to pop out broken chips and rip out various wires. "And you don't find it strange that such a common occurrence is never commented on or spoken about?"

"Of course not," Th'ron scoffed, crossing his arms and leaning a shoulder on the thin strip of wall beside the door. "If we don't live long enough to mate then we were too weak to pass on our genes anyway. It is the way of things. Passing our Chiva does not automatically guarantee us anything. To think otherwise is beyond foolish and asking for death."

"True brother, but you speak of others who die in battle or on a hunt." Sy'kl trilled, pup like in pitch. It reminded Th'ron of their growing years when he'd heard that sound the most. _I know something you don't know!_

"If you have a point, brother, I suggest that you make it soon or shut your maw and work faster."

"We almost died in an Ooman elevator." Sy'kl stated, as if that was some big revelation. Th'ron growled.

"And we could still die in this box if you don't fix this pauk'de machine! The utility elevator runs parallel above it so it will be circling back around. Any minute now."

"Yes, that's my point, brother. Don't you think it would be a shame to die in this little box without having mated?" Sy'kl said calmly but still a bit too cheerful and gloating for Th'ron's liking. Quashing the urge to slug Sy'kl and actually mean it this time, Th'ron merely growled louder and allowed his dreads to rise. "We can't fight this kind of death," Sy'kl continued as he stole chips from lower panels to replace the fried ones above and tugged to rerun wires.

"Wrong, brother," Th'ron ground out. "I could, as you said earlier, bust through the exit hatch in the ceiling or blast a hole through the floor."

"That wouldn't help," Sy'kl trilled in an off handed way. At least now he was fully focused on the problem at hand and kept working steadily despite their on going conversation.

"I know I don't want to ask this, but why not?"

"Because," Sy'kl started, twisting a group of wires together. "If we go through the ceiling, there are no cables to scale or ladders to climb. We'd be forced to punch holes through the shaft walls and if there are hard meats on the other side they could easily use a hole as a weak point to tackle us through. Then we'd fall down. Boom."

"Boom?" Th'ron mimicked, slightly amused despite himself. "You greatly under estimate your fighting skills, if you think a hard meat tackle could really result in your death, brother."

"Yes, boom. Ooman term and sound to mean a great noise. One of us falling several Levels would definitely make a very loud boom." Sy'kl chortled, the morbid thought not bothering him or so it seemed, as he started touching some unwound wires to each other to find out where the active line was. "The shaft walls are not reinforced brother. Our blades and even our claws would cut through it like thin air. Our natural reaction would be to stop the fall, not fight the hard meat that would be determined to end us however it could. All while falling. Boom."

Th'ron for once, had no comment for the latter argument so he seized on something else instead.

"Ooman term. Brother, you study them too much. It is humiliating. I have an uneasy feeling that whatever your point was about dying without mating is somehow linked to Ooman's as well. I do not want to know." He chuffed, putting period to that topic before moving on quickly. "What about blasting through the floor?"

"This elevator will probably fall down on top of us. Boom."

"Then you best shut your maw and work faster!" Th'ron snapped out, irritated. "You may feel shame in dying without mating, stuck in a box, but I will not. It is neither a battle nor a hunt. It doesn't count."

Sy'kl trilled again without comment for some time, quietly working. The only sounds begin the occasional flicker of wires or the groan of slightly loosened brakes letting their car bounce and bob whenever they adjusted their weight.

Th'ron was immediately suspicious of his brothers quiet. He knew they still had one topic unresolved and it wasn't like Sy'kl to simply beg off and forget. To calm his growing antsy fidgeting which only made the car rock and roll, Th'ron sighed loudly in defeat and finally voiced what he knew Sy'kl was waiting for. "Would you feel shame?"

"Had we been stuck like this a few cycles ago, no." Sy'kl for his part didn't sound so smug and knowing. He was finally calm, introspective but his hands never stopped working which eased another portion of Th'ron's nerves. He didn't like to be laid low with injuries or waylaid from battles. Stuck in an Ooman box was pushing his limits.

"What changed?"

"When our orders came that we'd be hunting hard meats in an Ooman facility, I accessed my database to refresh myself on Ooman culture. They have a specific word for Yautja like us."

"Young Bloods?" Th'ron trilled, cocking his head as he tried to ponder the matter.

"H'ko... well, sei-i. Not Young Bloods specifically," Sy'kl tried to explain, his brow bunching as his tusks tapped against themselves behind his mask. Not to manipulate his visor or scans but merely in thought. "It is a term attached to those who have not mated for the first time yet. This in our society could be UnBloods and many Young Bloods, too."

"Including us," Th'ron rumbled softly. He himself felt no shame or dishonor in not having mated. Like Sy'kl, they were young and still making their mark, gathering trophies and building reputations. It was only a matter of time before females saw them first within a crowd, pursued them, accepted them and mating was successful. Sure they were impatient for it, what newly Blooded Yaut wasn't? But it was something that couldn't be rushed, not really.

"Sei-i, including us."

"It's not disrespectful is it?" Th'ron growled suddenly, a thought just occurring to him. "Oomans have no honor. The last time I hunted them, the last trophy I took, the belligerent male called me 'Crab Face'. I did not like it."

Sy'kl chortled in sympathy but shook his big head, ripping out a section of wire and tossing it needlessly aside before standing to punch a meaty fist through a panel just above the Ooman button panel to access the wires there. "H'ko, it is not. It is primarily a term for those of their own kind, but it can be extended to just about anything that mates. For Ooman centuries and beyond, the word was well respected and those who were labeled by it were treated with the utmost respect and honor." Sy'kl paused then in thought and chirped as he kneeled, bringing a bundle of wire with him.

Th'ron trilled, truly perplexed and interested now despite his urge not to want to show it, even to his brother. "Utmost respect and honor? Ranked higher than even Elite and Elders who have mated hundreds or thousands of times?"

"Sei-i!" Sy'kl chirped again, nodding his head strongly until his dreads shook and his few rank rings clanked together. "They were coveted, doted on, watched over and highly sought out. They were so attractive that they needed watching over to make sure that not just any one could mate them. It was a high honor indeed to pass inspection and mate one."

Th'ron trilled again, more intrigued than he'd ever been with his brothers stories and dives into the various and innumerable databases that the Yaut's held information on. His brother was highly intelligent so Th'ron trusted him without question. He must be speaking the truth and honestly, his own ego and libido liked where this topic was headed.

"Brother, you said Ooman centuries ago. What about now?"

Sy'kl chortled and glanced at his brother. "You sound in awe and excited. See what you can learn when you study and not quickly judge?" Seeing Th'ron spell bound now, Sy'kl went back to his work. "Now, it is rare to find an Ooman that hasn't mated. Most who haven't rank among the most young, still pups really. Those who are of mate able age and still haven't, they sometimes meet with laughter and mocking. More often than not though, their attraction and appeal is undeniable as fellow Ooman's compete for them in droves, wanting desperately to be the first to give them experience and usher in their adulthood. Their rarity now is what adds to the craze for them in this new age, as opposed to history."

"If I understand you correctly, brother," Th'ron rumbled as his muscles bunched and tensed. "We are the Yautja equivalent to these certain, special Ooman's? We would be the ones sought after, fought over and coveted above all others? Despite being young and newly Blooded, still working to gain trophies and experience?" It was too much to contemplate for Th'ron. His heart was racing, his blood pounded in his ears and his body kept urging him to preen and puff up. In his own head however, he was picturing many great Yaut females battling for him rather than feeble, breakable Ooman's.

"Sei-i," Sy'kl answered softly, knowing his brothers internal fight. It wasn't just based on Th'ron's physical cues and scent, but Sy'kl had felt the same way when he'd read about this in the database. Ooman's were so backwards from Yautja, it boggled even Sy'kl's mind but on some issues he was shamefully envious, and this was one of them. Th'ron seemed to agree.

"What do they call these special Ooman's, brother?"

"Vuh-er-jen's," Sy'kl rumbled out in the Ooman tongue. It irritated his throat, so he swallowed and cleared it a few times before shooting a rapid glance at the ceiling and darting his attention back to work, quicker now, since the vibrations and rumbling were coming back. The elevator above them was returning.

Th'ron took longer to shake off his musings, but he too angled his visor to the ceiling and growled low, threatening in his throat as he pushed away from the sliver of wall and uncrossed his arms to kneel down on the floor beside his brother. "Brother, all we smell are Ooman females in this place."

Sy'kl grunted in agreement as he worked, his thick fingers quickly twisting, tucking, touching and routing the wires to the relocated chips in the panels. "Sei-i, below us are pups and above us are mate able females."

"Are the mate able females like us? Vuh-er-jen's?"

"I do not know, brother. But since we have yet to scent a male, pup or adult, I would hazard a guess that they are."

The rumbling drew slowly closer, their elevator car starting to shake and rattle on its tracks like before.

Th'ron spoke quickly, the encroaching return of the utility car evoking haste in his speech along with an added layer of excitement but for what, he didn't know. Gripping his brother's armored shoulder, he said, "If we identified ourselves as fellow vuh-er-jen's, could we gain their respect and cooperation?"

Sy'kl grunted as his own anxiety was beginning to mount. The shaking of their car unsteadying his meticulous hands and motions as he strove to work faster in making connections and testing circuits. "It is possible."

"Then work brother, fix this pauk'de machine and let us be on our way. I've changed my mind."

"You have?"

"Sei-i," Th'ron grunted with another angled look at the ceiling. "I do not wish to die in this box a vuh-er-jen."

"You know that we cannot mate with the Ooman's. They are prey. To do so would be dishonorable."

"Sei-i, I know this!" Th'ron snarled anxiously, gripping his brother's shoulder tighter and giving a hard shake. Sy'kl growled back and ripped himself away from the hold that was interfering in his handiwork.

"Then why the sudden change of heart?"

"Because we are twins. Our females will always view us as second class or less, it will forever be a fight for us. If we encounter Ooman females who understand our situation, for the first time brother, we might feel normal." Th'ron's voice was so strong yet maddeningly plaintive that Sy'kl paused a moment to view him directly. "We might be appreciated."

Sy'kl whined low in his throat, a pup like sound before he nodded strongly and went back to twisting wires in place. Finally, the elevator system's seemed to come back online. The lights flickered before staying on, the Ooman moo-sick sounded like an odd robotic slow down before it kicked back into speed and with a desperate smash of his thumb to the '16' button that once again lit up, their car began to lurch and roll upwards.

Both brothers' heads snapped to the ceiling, flicking through their scans as the run away utility elevator barreled like an Ooman bullet towards them. They'd no sooner cleared Level Fourteen than the car below them screamed past in a vicious and turbulent wake, sucking their own car down a full foot before releasing them with a bounce and jostle that had both of them scrambling to keep their balance.

In the wake of the car's latest go around, they also caught what sounded just a bit, like a screaming male Yautja. The brothers met eyes through their visor's as the lights and sound flickered again ominously yet held firm in their ascent.

Breathing heavily, Sy'kl managed a sickly sounding trill. "We did not die, brother. And the Ooman moo-sick is back."

Th'ron let out a shuddery sigh and nodded, gripping his brother's shoulder to shake affectionately. "You did well, brother."

Still sharing in their moment, their elevator finally reached Level Sixteen and again the brief feeling of zero gravity had them bracing, this time against each other and the walls before a chiming ding noise sounded and the doors slid open.

Absolute chaos stared back at them. Ooman females of advanced ages, well into breeding cycles were screaming at ear splitting pitches and running back and forth in front of the open doors. Some were dressed in uniform of blouse and skirt and shoes, some had combinations there of or items missing or left open to flap and flutter as they ran. The lighting on the floor was unstable, flickering and dying for several seconds before 'zzzing' back on in an odd strobe like effect that left the brothers blinking rapidly behind their masks, quickly cycling to a better view.

Directly down the narrow hall in front of them, a crowd of females broke ranks and spread apart as one of their own was clawing, grappling and groping at her face. A face hugger had latched on tightly, it's spider like spindly legs clutched around her head with its tail retightening about her neck while she stumbled with deeply bent knees, ricocheting into others and off the walls while she fought to breathe and to remove it without success.

For a split second, the brothers held still in the elevator car, taking stock of the carnage. No adult hard meats were in sight just yet, until a particular blood curdling scream sounded from the right, just around the corner and a whizzing spray of bright, hot arterial blood fanned out on the white tiled floor in front of their cars door. The thud of a falling body quickly followed.

It wasn't long before the scattering, distraught females noticed the available elevator and made a heart pounding run for it, not even seeming to care that it housed two male Yaut's of impressive size on their knees. Their screams and speech was rapid, multiple over riding layers of communication that their audio filters couldn't keep up with once switched on.

The Ooman females were dying, being cut down like blades of long grass in a violent storm and just as both brothers growled and got to their feet, extending their wrist blades to full length with a lock click in place, a particularly stunning Ooman female was felled a mere foot from the door as it started to close. Sy'kl slapped out a hand to repel the closure just as the female went down onto her hands and knees, crying out in pain and terror and reaching a bloodied hand towards them. Her eyes were so wide, so wild and glazed with horror that Th'ron let loose his war cry.

The roar was so loud and from his gut that their car vibrated, the sound carrying down the three halls of the T junction open to them before he bolted forward with Sy'kl hot on his heels. They'd barely passed the threshold when the stunning female rolled to her back to confront her attacker, a fully grown hard meat as it pounced and crushed her against the ground, driving an agonizing scream from her already broken body. Its claws had laid open her throat to the bone, more blood sprayed directly onto the lunging brothers. It was still hot from her temperature, sticky and coppery sweet with droplets obscuring their masks as they charged into the thick of things.

Th'ron tackled the hard meat head on, driving it back and away from the dying female who was quickly bleeding out. Having caught it in the upper chest and around the neck, the pair soared and landed hard, bounce-skidding along the tile already slick with tears, sweat and blood to wrestle and fight.

Sy'kl shut himself down, refusing to give in to the grief crushing against him in scents and sounds as he twisted at the last second, slapping a hand against the inner elevator panel to close the doors and send it back down to ground level. Hard meats were notorious for figuring things out. They had use of vents, stair wells and their acid eating through floors but he'd be damned if he offered them an elevator. Once the doors sealed securely and the car was on its way down, Sy'kl roared his own challenge and launched himself to the right, where another hard meat had taken down an unseen female.

He collided with its back, sending it sprawling to the ground with an enraged, startled shriek just before he buried his wrist blades into its neck. Acidic blood sprayed as he drew back, splattering and hissing as it contacted walls, floor and everything else in sight including other Ooman's as they battled by themselves. The flickering lights had the Ooman's at an extreme disadvantage and Sy'kl could hear others falling in the distance. Could smell their blood. It enraged him.

Kicking the downed hard meat, he didn't have time to contemplate taking its skull when another gut wrenching scream sounded behind him. Turning quickly, he saw another hard meat drop from the ceiling onto the back of another Ooman female, pinning her with its bladed tail in her right shoulder as it screeched its victory, angling its head for the killing blow with its hidden inner mouth. Without thought, Sy'kl roared and launched himself with just a few steps, broad siding the hard meat and taking it down to skid across the tiled floor.

Th'ron had delivered the killing blow to his own opponent, striking without reserve into the front of its oblong, oil slick glistening head. It dropped dead conveniently as he was retracting his blades. The battle was on. Yet before he could stand and turn to seek another combatant, a sight caught his attention. The initial female suffering the face hugger. She'd slammed back against the wall maybe fifteen feet from him and slid to the ground, her struggled growing weaker as many of her comrades screamed and ranted, fighting to pry the thing from her face. Th'ron knew it was too late. His scans showed her irregular heart beat, her oxygen starved lungs and the actual implantation of the hard meat embryo.

The Ooman female would be dead in mere hours. Her comrades might think they'd won a victory once they finally pried the thing from her face, but the damage was done and her fate had been sealed. For some unknown reason, Th'ron grieved. It was then that he was hit broadside by another adult hard meat, sending them both sliding down the hall to the left. He caught a glimpse of his brother in front of him, but he couldn't be reached. Quickly grabbing the hard meat by the throat, he levered it off of himself with a disgusted growl as its inner dripping maw snapped inches from his masked face.

Rolling his hips to arch, he got his feet under him and planted on the hard meats rib case to thrust it off of him. It sailed through the air with a surprised shriek to crash land and skid against his brother's lower legs, toppling him. For a moment, his heart stopped. He hadn't meant for that to happen. Sy'kl was already engaging a hard meat, now it was two on one. Both of them were coated in Ooman blood, their footing slippery and their grip sticky as Th'ron launched himself to his feet by bucking his hips up and pushing off behind his head with his arms.

Landing in a crouch, he snarled another roar as he watched his brother fall over the top of one hard meat as the other quickly gained its feet draped on top of him. He would die. Sy'kl would die!

Before he could take even a step, three Ooman females turned their shoulders at a full run against the side of the hard meat on top of Sy'kl, knocking it off and quickly covering it to over power it just as a black shadow crossed his own vision. A hard meat in mid-flight sailing right for him with its claws out and its outer mouth open.

Cocking back his right arm, he extended his wrist blades again to ready for the impact strike when it simply never came. Two more Ooman females broadsided his assailant, it hit on its side harshly with a broken shriek as they scrambled to try and detain it. These females carried weapons, and they were skilled. The hard meat kicked one of them away, towards him with a hind leg as he quickly ducked. The female sailed overhead while curling into a fetal position before striking the closed elevator doors with a crunching thud and dropping to the ground. Still clutched in her hand was an exploding bolt gun.

Th'ron rumbled as he stood upright again, watching the dazed female as she slowly rolled to her knees, upper body swaying precariously as she tried to sight beyond him. He was blocking her way. Ducking back to a crouch, he didn't bother activating his cloak since it would hinder the females. Sy'kl was still fully visible as well. Pushing to her feet, the battered and blooded female sighted along her Ooman weapon before pulling the trigger rapidly.

The shots stuck true, three of them along the length of the hard meats skull as it continued to grapple and roll with her comrade who was trapped under it. The punctures sprayed a thin mist of acid blood and the hard meat shrieked in pain, tossing its head as the female under it struggled to hold off its crushing weight.

"Move!" The shooter screamed at him, just as he was hit like a freight train from the back by another hard meat. It sent him sprawling forwards and face down against the tile, hard enough to crack it and explode a few squares.

Just as the three shot bolts exploded into the hard meat on top of her friend, she screamed out in terror as acidic blood gushed everywhere. Her trapped friend wailed and rolled like someone might when on fire, adrenaline surging to get the body off of her even as her rolling did nothing to quell the acid burning into her body.

Th'ron sighted his brother then, just as the hard meat he battled swept its columned tail at him and sent him careening back into the three females who were battling the hard meat just behind him that Th'ron had kicked his way. All of them went down in a sprawl of screams and survival, and before he could utter another rage filled roar, the hard meat on top of him drove its bladed tail down through his right shoulder and his roar switched gears into pain as he shuddered and fought through it.

Through his pain filled haze, he saw Sy'kl take a harshly raked claw to his back armored plate. Flares and sparks shot from the metal contact as his back bowed and he fell forward yet again.

The Ooman's were not to be outdone however. The female with the bolt gun swiveled and gave her own battle cry, shooting off two rounds into the back part of the hard meat skull that had him pinned. Th'ron could feel its body jerk and slacken, so he lurched to his feet and threw it from his back as hard as possible with a roar, its tail ripping free of his shoulder and showering the female with his glowing green blood. The bolt exploded and the hard meat died instantly, its blood hitting the walls and the floor around it rather than another living body. Th'ron rumbled and swiveled on the firing female.

He wasn't sure what he was expecting, but her moment of perfect calm and clarity wasn't one of them. She'd met his visor covered eyes for just a moment, breathing hard and with eyes as pain glazed as his before twisting the rest of the way to sight the hard meat battle that his brother was engaged in. Sy'kl had managed to kill the hard meat in front of him, yet he'd sustained burns as he pivoted to engage the one at his back, most recently attacking. The three females clamored to grab at its forelimbs, its tail, trying all they could to rip it off of him just as his wrist blades sank into its chest.

Th'ron could hear the punch of knuckles meeting bone from where he stood, just as Sy'kl roared in triumph and the gun wielding female shot off another round, catching the hard meat in the base of its skull. Th'ron thundered an order to his brother to throw it far, and Sy'kl did. Grabbing a foreleg he rolled the hard meats weight over his back and shoulders to toss it a good ways down the hall where the bolt exploded, and the hard meat went still long before it stopped sliding on the tile.

For now, it was all over.

Both brothers breathed heavily from exertion, pain and adrenaline yet they managed to get to their feet and stand in all their glory, uncloaked. The Ooman females breathed heavily also, scattered around the three halls of the T junction like lost little sheep. While both brothers lived to fight another day, the Ooman's had lost at least seven of their number. Their broken, ripped and blooded bodies strewn around and still warm. Some of the females started to cry while others embraced them tightly, offering what comfort they could.

Th'ron noticed that several other females held bolt guns, not just the one that had saved him and his brother. Twisting in her direction, he rumbled a growl as he looked her over. She was tall for a female, clearly well into her mating seasons and standing at least to his arm pit. Rachael knew she was going into shock. Her body trembled and her breathing was out of control. She didn't want to stare at the Predator in front of her, but it was better than at her dead classmates. Her friends.

Her cheeks billowed with every breath, and her color was high, highlighting her sparse freckles and the knife scar running diagonally across her face. Her sandy reddish blond hair was heavy with sweat, maybe some blood, and her arms shot from holding up the heavy bolt gun. Slowly, she lowered it in jerking bobs until it was pointed at the floor between her feet.

Sy'kl fully got his feet under him at that point, swiveling to survey what was behind him, including the three females that had fought with him and his brother, further on. The twins connected eyes and nodded at each other. They were okay.

Th'ron twisted around to see into the hall across the elevator, where the face hugger plagued female had fallen. The hugger itself had detached now, laying dead on its back not far away with its spider like legs curled up and in with its tail slightly curled. It had done its job, and Th'ron felt uncharacteristically sick. Switching vision settings, he honed in on the panicked breathing of the infected female and clearly saw the growing embryo in her chest.

Suddenly it all became clear. Growling, he swung his gaze to Sy'kl as his twin picked his way over to Th'ron, the three feisty females following him too stunned to know what else to do.

"They used the face hugger's attack as a distraction," he rumbled, saddened.

Sy'kl nodded and trilled a plaintive tone as he nursed his own wounds. "Agreed, brother. We need to call this in."

Th'ron nodded back, swinging his gaze again to the now freed yet impregnated female. He couldn't tell much through his viewing, but she tall, at least five foot ten with long flowing hair and an athletic body. Her heart was beating frantically, harder and faster than it should as she struggled to breath. Her body still adapting to the embryo that was implanted and her air way cut off from its tail. She was shaking, vibrating really with a hand held at her throat as she stared blankly at the dead hugger just feet from her. Her Ooman comrades had solemnly moved away, saying nothing yet distraught in scent.

Despite himself, he purred and the pregnant female darted her panicky gaze to his. He couldn't tell the color of her eyes but they were wide and fearful. Her other hand, her left, was laying lifeless at her side, palm up on the floor as she was slouched against the wall. She was pleasantly built, not thin but not thick. Active without being too lazy. Her musculature was strong and defined.

He continued to purr, despite his bleeding wound as he made his ways towards her. Respectfully he stepped over or around any bodies, making sure not to touch them in death, before kneeling beside the female. She met his gaze with harsh breaths, the hand at her sore throat shakily gliding down to rest over her chest where he had no doubt she could feel the embryo growing, attaching its blood supply to her. His scans showed as much.

Sy'kl had moved to in front of the elevator doors, keeping all hallways in sight including his brother and the Ooman's as he made the call to Elder Thwei'dok'de.

"Nn-aame?" Th'ron choked out in the best English he could.

The female blinked rapidly at him, her body slouching even more as she bent her legs to try and find a more comfortable position while shoring herself up. "S…sarah. My name... is Sarah."

"Suh-auhr-uh," Th'ron rumbled, trying as best he could to keep the pain out of his voice. His pierced shoulder was still bleeding green, and it ached like a pauk'de but compared to this little female, he had no right to complain.

The female nodded her head slightly, her thick hair loose and tangled about her face. Her wet tongue slid out to wet her parched, chapped lips before she swallowed with a pained grimace. "Yes. Sarah."

"Suh-auhr-ah," Th'ron rumbled again, compelled for whatever reason to reach out and touch the small female. His right hand, steady as it was, brushed back her tangled hair and came to rest on her shoulder as it continued to heave with her breathing.

"I'm going to die," Sarah said softly, her throat raw from the hugger's invasion yet she kept staring into his eyes. His visor, really. Open and honest, if only he could interpret her. Her scent of fear and disbelief said it all.

"Ki-sei, do'nok n'dhi-ja," Th'ron rumbled low, squeezing her small shoulder.

Sarah closed her eyes tightly; wetness seeping from under her lids and tracking down her cheeks as she struggled with her breath and gasped for a moment before looking at him again. "I know you understand, and yes…" Choking up, she shuddered hard for a moment before gasping again and clutching her blouse front in white knuckles. "...I will die. This is goodbye."

Th'ron huffed and leaned back before cutting a glance to his brother. Sy'kl was still in talks with their Elder, so he turned back to Sarah again and whined low in his throat, a mournful sound. The female's shoulder was extremely warm under his large hand, firm with muscle covering bone and vividly alive as she understood him. How was that possible?

Lifting her loose left hand, she first set it on his armor covered shoulder, shaking it slightly, before sliding it up to his neck guard and finally to his bare skin just under his jaw. Cupping and caressing, her thumb stroked against the bottom edge of his mask as she murmured, weak and low to hear. "Ye de' thar'n-da s' yin'tekai ko dha-viath tok u'darahje. Lo lou-dte kale, a sa pyode amedha. Y do thei-de."

Th'ron jerked back with a harsh growl, yet the female kept her hold on him. Her fingers tight against the back of his neck while her trembling thumb kept his head up. "Promise me..."

Th'ron growled even louder, his body vibrating as he struggled to understand how she knew his words. His language. How she understood her own situation and why she'd chosen him. His heart raced against his ribs, just as his brother's hand landed on his shoulder. Startled, Th'ron jerked to look over his bleeding shoulder to Sy'kl who trilled softly. Three battered Ooman females behind him in a row, while the others flattened against the walls.

"What did she say, brother?" Sy'kl purred, as much for the female as for his brother who looked torn.

Th'ron rumbled and glanced back at Sarah, who was so exhausted she was near lifeless against the wall before him. In a haze, he said, "She said that she's a soft meat female, a child bearer now of age, carrying an abomination inside of her and that I needed strength and honor to see her through the end into death."

Sy'kl purred deeper than before, glancing at Sarah who lifted her gaze to see his masked face. Her furry brows narrowed for a moment, as she studied him before glancing back to Th'ron several times. "You're twins."

Th'ron purred and nodded.

"Brother, Elder Thwei'dok'de couldn't really be reached. For the moment I had a connection, he said to fight until the end and to protect the Ooman's. That was all. He was fully engaged himself."

Th'ron nodded again absently, continuing to stare at Sarah as she fought for breath in an aching throat and chest. Rachael with her bolt gun had quietly walked up behind Sy'kl, past the three females to stand at his side. She was strapped with bolt clips, knives and a spare bolt gun yet the one in her hand still held several rounds as it was pointed at the floor.

"Rachael," Sarah murmured, her eyes watering and throat closing as tears threatened. She squeezed her hand against Th'ron's jaw and he purred louder in response, laying his massive hand over hers on his body.

Rachael merely thinned her lips and nodded, breathing heavily through her nose as it flared. Sy'kl trilled and slanted a glance at the tall female to his left. She did indeed come to his sternum but she was athletically built and solid. Dropping his gaze to the bolt gun in her hand, it was steady while the rest of her wasn't. She smelled of fear, worry, excitement and adrenaline. She smelled like a female, and Sy'kl breathed deep for a moment as she spoke in an authoritative tone.

"You'll live, Sarah. Trust me, you'll live." Both brothers had no doubt after hearing Rachael's tone of voice, yet they purred anyway in mourning as the other Ooman's gathered around to stare and cry.


	8. Chapter 8

**I'm sooo sorry this took so long to post! It was a lot harder than I anticipated to rewrite Ker'ak'de's chapter and just like the twins, he demanded to go his own way - the humans too. WARNING: later in this chapter, it is NOT what it seems. I'll repeat, this story has NO 'pup' action *cough*. No. But it DOES have elements of innocent discovery and puppy love/crushes. So please don't get the wrong idea. :)**

**I swear come hell or high water, I WILL get back to two scenes per chapter, LOL. I don't own/make money from Aliens/Predator but the humans are all mine. Thank you again SO much for reviewing, I hope this keeps you entertained - all views are welcomed with open arms.**

Ker'ak'de wondered, and not for the first time, why these pups were acting so differently from adults. He'd encountered Ooman adults before, many a time, but never had they behaved so strangely and what seemed to him, against the nature of their species. Granted he'd run across, battled and hunted males more so than females but occasionally a female Ooman warrior was thrown in his path. He'd never openly spoken his thoughts on the matter but he did have opinions of Ooman females based on his experience. Maybe that was what seemed like such a huge chasm in his understanding.

The scent of mint was strong on his palette from the tube the slightly older female was carrying, clutched to her chest while she stared at him with open… awe? Ker'ak'de couldn't be sure. Dragging his gaze up to the pup's face, he couldn't make out many details but he knew when their eyes connected. The female gasped and tensed but those reactions were minute and easily overlooked since she didn't step back, move away or avert her gaze.

Ker'ak'de growled again low in his throat and allowed his dreads to rise, flicking his gaze from the female's face to the items she protectively clutched against her. He was familiar now with the smallest pup standing beside her, still carrying the large bottle of lotion that the crowd was meticulously massaging into his skin. He approved of that... for now. But the older ones intentions were highly suspect and he made sure to convey that as best he could.

"Wow," the smallest pup breathed in awe, "Do you feel that?"

The crowd quieted completely from their soft murmurs and even those massaging him paused in their work to regard the little one. Quickly turning, she shoved the large bottle in her hands to her nearest neighbor before stepping forward until the tips of her shoes almost brushed Ker'ak'de's weight baring forearm. The little one seemed to roll her fleshy lower lip inwards to her mouth, her small teeth worrying it as barely contained excitement sprayed from her pores.

"Feel what, Anna?" Nancy asked, having lost the Yaut's attention but seemingly not worried about that as she continued to hold his hand, now with both of her own to continue her own massage.

"The like," Anna started before stopping, wrinkling her brow as if in thought for a word or proper description. "Vibrations! Yeah, he's like, vibrating when he makes that noise. I can feel it inside. My chest is all shaky and stuff. It feels so weird but so cool. It almost makes me wanna laugh!"

Nancy smiled in understanding and patience, nodding. "Yes, I feel it too. What do you think it means?"

Anna shrugged a small shoulder before giggling, or trying not to, since her expression brightened while she studied the prone Yaut in front of her. "I dunno, but it's sooo cool. I like it!" No sooner were the words out of her mouth, Anna launched herself at Ker'ak'de. Falling with a thump to her boney little knees she fell across the Yaut's deep, broad chest with childish delight and discovery. One arm stretched as far as it could to surround him, the other bent up over his ribs she nestled her ear against his pectoral and closed her eyes as the Yaut's vibrating growl buzzed into her ear and rattled her whole body.

Ker'ak'de immediately went silent and still. He didn't even dare breathe, not with the little pup half on top of him like this. Tensing, he squeezed Nancy's hand perhaps harder than he'd intended as she gasped to his side and the ones massaging him seemed to spontaneously come back to life as his muscles hardened under their stilled hands. Immediately he was enveloped in touch again and slowly, oh so slowly, he relaxed and Nancy exhaled heavily.

"Anna, I don't think he likes that." Nancy cautioned, her voice a bit hoarse as she tried to keep the throbbing ache from her crushed hand out of her voice. She didn't think anything was broken, but it felt ridiculously hot and sore as she flexed her fingers to help bring back circulation. "Can you sit up for me please, and do me a favor?"

"Aww, he stopped!" Anna complained with a pout, lifting her head and glancing from Ker'ak'de's face to Nancy across from her. Frowning a moment, the little girl tried to guess what her friend might want but soon gave up with another shrug and laid her chin down on the Yaut's chest. "Okay, I guess I can."

Ker'ak'de didn't know what to think. Instinctively when the pup draped across him, he'd lifted a hand to the small of her back as each time he breathed in it felt as if the female would slip off from how high his chest raised. The little pup seemed to move inside her top though, her body sliding while the fabric stayed so the pads of his fingers scraped against her bare skin. She felt hot, her temperature a lot warmer than his own without the netting and so soft he snapped his mandibles in tight to his maw and contracted his brows. In comparison his callused touch was like sand against glass.

"Good girl," Nancy murmured. "Now sit up, go on. That's it, stand up and come over here, above his head." Gesturing with one of her hands, Nancy snapped her fingers where she wanted Anna to end up.

Anna wrinkled her face in protest, but finally sighed in indignant resignation before pushing off the Yaut's chest and getting to her feet. A quick rub or two later on her grating patterned knees, she traipsed where Nancy indicated and stood at Ker'ak'de's head, out of his sight before looking unsure. "Um, here?"

"Right there, peanut. Good, now go ahead and sit down, Indian style and scoot up real close, okay?"

Nodding, Anna dropped down to sit and folded her legs into position as Ker'ak'de trilled and swung his massive head around. When the little one had pulled away he hadn't stayed her, but he'd also been slightly sad to let her go too. He didn't quite understand why. He hadn't wanted her laid across him like that but once there, he couldn't deny that it felt... pleasant. Her lack of fear and obvious enjoyment of him had triggered something in his brain. It made him feel… approachable. Female Yaut's never allowed their pups close to others, never close enough to actually engage physically and by the time the pups were old enough to do just that it was always for conversation or to challenge, never to simply... simply...

He didn't even have a word for what he sought to describe. There were a couple he could use but they didn't quite feel right somehow. Frustrated with himself, the confusing situation and everything in general that formed a large tangled knot deep inside, he couldn't see Anna so he tilted his head to look at Nancy as she directed the pup behind him. Her scent was layering on his palette, not thick at first but grew in depth the more he breathed. Commanding, calm, confident but there was something else. Trilling again, louder this time he squeezed her hand and when she tightened, he tugged to cant her closer to his face while he chuffed the air directly in front of her with a flutter of his eyes.

The massaging crowd gasped and their rhythmic, coordinated effort quickly fell off key and out of sync. He tensed again and growled, narrowing his gaze on Nancy's face. Pain. The little female was suffering. At first, he suffered confusion until he clued in on the tension in her hand as it held his. Eyes widening, he barked out a noise and tried letting go but Nancy quickly diverted his intentions and clung to his hand with both of her own. Threading her fingers with his like before she tightened up, strong for a pup, and grasped his wrist with her other as she met his gaze head on in challenge.

Her scent was stronger now, labored and intense as she bore down with both her will and her physical strength, trying to show him that she was fine, that all was alright. Paya help him, he'd hurt a pup! Without his mask he couldn't see any injury clearly but he needed to let go. Pushing off his opposite arm, he lunged at Nancy to bark directly in her face with a hurricane blast of hot breath as he shook the hand she held but she simply dug in and held on tighter.

"No!" She reprimanded right back at him, impossibly leaning in to his half assed display of dominance, coming up on her knees to tower over him by a few inches. "No!" Blasted right back by her own breath, Ker'ak'de growled louder and struggled to sit up. Didn't this pup understand that he'd hurt her? He'd dishonored himself! Shifting his weight to free his opposite arm, he made to reach across and physically pry himself loose when the young female Veronica yelped and dropped to her knees at his side, quick to snatch his reaching hand and hold it tight while the others broke into noise and as one seemed to converge, increasing their efforts to massage and soothe him.

"Anna!" Nancy commanded, not taking her eyes from Ker'ak'de. "Anna, massage him, peanut. Rub his head, rub his temples. You can do it."

"Why's he upset, Nancy?" Anna cried, her hands fluttering in the air, unsure of what to do, where to touch, how or if she should as she breathed heavy. "I don't want him to be upset!"

"Anna!" Nancy commanded again, harsher this time as she finally tore free from the Yaut's challenging stare to pin Anna in place. "Do what I said, damnit! His head'll fit into the cross of your legs like that, so you need to massage him. Just trust me and do this, peanut, please!"

While Anna squealed out a distressed cry, wriggling and bouncing in place, Veronica across from Nancy kept battling with Ker'ak'de as he barely fought at half strength. Palm to palm, she gripped the back of the Yaut's hand with white knuckles as she struggled to counteract his jerking, tense movements. Long brunette hair swaying, flicking and flying in front of her long, narrow face she thinned her lips and braced her thighs for the tug of war before shooting Nancy a glance. _Do something!_

"STOP!" Nancy shouted, right in Ker'ak'de's face. The force behind the word was so strong, hyper saturated with pheromones that Ker'ak'de did as she commanded without even understanding the word she spoke. Freezing in place, his body a dead weight, he slowly slumped back against the ground with Nancy following him all the way down. It was pure instinct on his part to follow the will of a female, language barrier or not he clearly understood that this female wanted his compliance and wouldn't take no for an answer. Oddly enough, her show of dominance calmed him as much as it pricked.

The female's eyes were so strange in his natural vision. A grayish white they burned into his brain and melted his muscles. Entranced, he soon found himself prostrate completely on the catwalk with his head gently pillowed in Anna's lap behind him. The little female whined a faint noise and he could feel her shifting but he didn't move. He didn't dare. Not with Nancy's command mere inches from his face as she'd followed him all the way down, leaning over him. For a split second he even forgot why he struggled in the first place. This female's scent was nothing but compelling now, ordering his submission.

Instead of angering Ker'ak'de, it sucked the fight right out of him. This female, whatever her point may be, screamed that she was in the right and he was in the wrong. She was wholesome, strong, and as she should be. Blessed Paya, she even growled at him a bit right at the end as she exhaled deeper than before. His pupils blown into black, the barest rim of color showing at the edges he exhaled himself and fully relaxed, lightly twitching his upper right mandible.

For what felt like hours, the pair did nothing but heavily breathe into each others personal space. Nancy's humid, gusting breaths bathed his maw in sweet moisture, the taste and scent undefined but enjoyable as she kept a firm hold on his now lax hand. Pressing her thumbs into his wrist with deep circular motions, she hugged his palm and fingers against her developing chest until he could feel the pounding of her Ooman heart. Claws flexing automatically, they curled into the pup's neckline to loosely grip, also having snagged the gold medallion she wore on a chain.

"Anna," Nancy panted.

"Yeah," Anna replied quickly, her pitch high, thready but sure. "Yeah, I'm here. I'm… I'm doing it." Her small hands shakily had taken to rubbing Ker'ak'de's temples, smoothing over the thicker barbed hair like projections to ease his demeanor while her thumbs pressed in firm running lines back and forth along his ridge that formed the crest.

"Good girl," Nancy breathed, almost to herself than the younger female as she was so close to Ker'ak'de now that her entire face could've fit within the spread of his mandibles had he flared them open. As it was, the lower flaps were closed tight yet the two upper had spread to lightly tap and trace Nancy's cheekbones with their talons. "Keep rubbing. Everyone, keep rubbing. Don't stop. Please."

Across from her, Veronica took heed and increased her massage on Ker'ak'de's opposite hand. Fingers pressing along the bend lines of his large callused palm, she breathed heavily too, washing across his scarred knuckled as she dripped her chin a bit to watch Nancy closely, guarded. "Do you know what you're doing?"

"No," Nancy wavered, puffing against Ker'ak'de's face again. "I have no idea. Everything I've learned has gone right out of my head. I'm going by pure instinct, Ronnie. Don't push me, please."

Softening slightly with the use of her nickname, Veronica nodded and wet her lips nervously before gazing around. Catching the eye of many in the crowd who had fresh dollops of lotion in their palms, she frowned and ordered, "You heard her, keep rubbing him. Calm him down."

The crowd gasped in noise, some even whimpering as they quickly got back to work, working the thick, silky, luxurious lotion in the Yaut's scaly skin. Their body heat warming it quickly, Ker'ak'de groaned out a submissive noise that would've embarrassed him had these pups been Yaut but since they weren't, he gave up fighting when the fingers started kneading again. His skin, always dry, seemed to suck up the lotion at an alarming speed. Constantly refilling their cupped hands with pumps from the bottle, their determination and stamina were no match for Ker'ak'de's needy spirit.

"Everything's alright," Nancy breathed into Ker'ak'de's partially blocked maw. Her forehead pressed to his prominent brow ridge she didn't seem in discomfort though the protruding bone had to hurt her. "We mean you no harm. We want to help you. Please let us help you. Please." On the last word, her voice tightened on a whimper.

Ker'ak'de instantly purred without any thought involved. It was natural to him when a female was in distress, and this time, this strong, commanding female seemed strained to the limit. His sensitive soul cried out at that, and so he purred. He'd only wanted to remove himself after hurting her, to examine her damage and yet here she was concerned about his own state. Confused, overwhelmed, out of his league and badgered by scents that screamed good will despite all odds he kept still.

"I-I think..." Veronica stammered. "He thought something was... was wrong?"

Sighing deeply, Nancy closed her eyes. Leave it to Ronnie to map the logic. Opening her eyes again to Ker'ak'de's glazed, enchanted gaze, she murmured. "I'm alright. Everything is alright."

Until the people at the very back of the crowd gave an uproarious cry of alarm. Planted in the T junction, the cry sounded from all three avenues very deep, back in the pack of students along all three hallways. Spreading like a wildfire, panic flared up the ranks until everyone had caught wind. Jerking her gaze up from Ker'ak'de, Nancy sucked in a large breath and held it as she assessed what the fuss was about. Quickly darting her daze to Veronica and Anna, even Linda who stood just to the side she gruffed and nodded firmly, confirming that they should stay put.

"Lean in!" Nancy called as loud as she could, before pushing to her feet while still holding the Yaut's hand. Ker'ak'de stirred as if from a deep sleep, lazy and a few seconds behind he registered the commotion around him. The thickening scents of distress, fear, adrenaline and Nancy now standing without letting him go. Something wasn't right. Something was wrong. Shaking his head, he lifted it from Anna's lap behind him and blinked hard in all directions as he tried to force his senses back online. The pups were clearly stirred up. But why?

"T3 offence!" Came the cry from the hall to the left, quickly spread in rapid succession along the right hall and front hall in tandem. "T3 offence, T3 offence, T3 offence!" The growing voices shouted, cheered, screamed and commanded until the very air shimmered with noise. Unseen to Ker'ak'de's circle, the back pack in each hallway seven layers deep had spun to confront the hard meat facing each hall with battle cries, screams and curses. Armed with enzyme canisters, water hoses, SoBall equipment, chairs and color guard twirling flag poles the students intimidated the hard heats.

At the command to lean in, Anna bent over Ker'ak'de's head in her lap as she kept massaging, smiling into his unfocused eyes as she said cheerily, "My sister Jennie helped me make the lotion you're wearing. Jennie's real smart. She's older than me and sooo cool. You'd like her. It doesn't smell, the lotion I mean, so you won't smell like a girl or anything. Guys shouldn't smell like girls. It's weird." Anna's face scrunched up as Ker'ak'de blinked and trilled before shifting his gaze to Nancy.

Still standing, Nancy held his hand tighter than he thought a young Ooman possible, pressing it against her stomach as she struggled to see over everyone's heads down each hallway, shouting out commands as needed. He could feel her muscles tighten like metal; vibrate, until they relaxed momentarily until she yelled out again.

"Hey," Anna pressed on, undaunted by his shifting attention. "Hey, mister?" When the Yaut's gaze remained on Nancy, Anna pouted and slid her hands down to tug on some of his dreads. She didn't pull hard, well not at first, because quickly she learned that they weren't just rubber tubes growing out of his head like she first thought. They were warm and pulsing, like they had their own heartbeats. Gasping in a little breath, she glanced down with wide eyes. "Mister!" She yanked.

Ker'ak'de yelped instead of roared, the sound pained and high pitched which immediately embarrassed him. He hadn't made a sound like that since he was still a pup himself. Grousing, he tucked his head way back, jamming the back of his crest in the hollow of little Anna's crossed legs. Still unable to see the Ooman, he kept arching, dragging the little girl across the grated floor with her shins trapped under his neck. Yelping herself, Anna held tighter to his dreads on instinct as they swelled a bit and throbbed in her fists. Ker'ak'de chattered his maw, dense hard claps of his teeth as he bit down on the urge to yell out again or to do something even more dishonoring, like yanking one of his hands free and grabbing a fistful of _her_ furry head covering to see how she liked it. It was tempting. So tempting.

"Mister?" Anna whispered now, chewing on her fleshy lower lip until it glowed a brighter red than the rest of her. Not that he could focus correctly since she was a mere inch from his face, her eyes hovering directly over his as she bent over him in her lap. Forcing himself to blink a few times, clearing the faint watery sting from his eyes as the pup still clung to his dreads, he clicked his mandibles and growled as low as he could. "Do you have a lot of heads?"

Ker'ak'de had no idea what she was saying, and with his ears struggling to hear her breathy words through the uproar still raging all around him, he didn't even know why he tried. He didn't understand yet he struggled to hear. Where all of these confounding pups taught how to be the center of attention or was it natural?

"Anna!" Veronica chirped from Ker'ak'de's right, leaning to give a fast strike with a hand to the younger pup's hovering head in a cuff like slide that caught the girl above her ear. "Stop it, you're smothering him."

Anna cried out, surprised, at the glancing blow and quickly shot up with a stiff back and growing mutiny on her small face as she pouted in Veronica's direction. "I am not! I was asking him if he had a lot of heads!"

"A lot of heads? Anna...," Veronica started, her confusion evident in her voice as she struggled to keep up with the surrounding war chants, jostles from her peers and what in the world the younger girl was talking about.

"Yeah, heads!" Anna challenged right back, her chin jutting out before she yanked on the Yaut's dreads again and bent back over him quickly. "Do you?"

Ker'ak'de yelped again despite himself, unprepared for another siege to his tubules and anger flash fired through his veins. Enough was enough! Yanking his hand free of Nancy, violently enough that it sent the older girl stumbling and tripping over his midsection with a surprised cry of her own, Ker'ak'de swiftly grabbed a handful of young Anna's fur. His palm encompassing the entire back and top of her head, he grated in with his fingertips to make a fist full of the long strands before giving his own tug. It was enough to stretch the pup over his head even more and she quickly screamed.

Letting go of his dreads, Anna grabbed onto the back of his hand and dug in with her thin, flimsy nails as her own indignant scream sounded off right in his face. Even through his burst of anger, he was sure he hadn't tugged that hard, just enough to give the little menace a taste of her own medicine. Flaring his mandibles, he roared right back at her. The competing sounds bellowing from both of them did little for anyone's ears as many of the massaging pups left off their rubbing to clap their hands over their heads and duck down, trying to ride out the pitches that bounced like rubber balls through the hallways.

Veronica was no different, cringing and tucking her chin to her chest as she struggled to keep control of the Yaut's right hand as he jerked her to and fro, unseating her kneeling balance at every turn. Long dark hair obscuring her vision, she chirped out another noise before Linda dropped down beside her to help hold on.

"Pile on!" Veronica yelled out in a nasal like tone, her bird like face scrunched up in the strain she felt holding on. "Pile on!"

"Do something!" Linda screamed at random, clinging to the Yaut's forearm like an out of control joystick that just kept jerking her along for the ride, trying hard not to get hit in the face or head.

Slightly winded from her suddenly unstoppable fall across Ker'ak'de's lower abdomen, Nancy groaned and tried hard to coordinate her muscles, getting to her hands and knees on either side of the powerful Yaut that kept struggling. The massagers were offline, all of them busy covering their ears as chaos continued to rein. The back pack in each of the three hallways continued to battle the hard meats and in between discord ran amuck as the students had no idea what to do or who to turn to, feeling converged on from both sides they kept twisting and turning, bumping off each other.

In an almost perpetual motion cycle, Ker'ak'de and Anna kept feeding off each other, continued to tug and pull at each others hair, both bound and determined to make the other cry 'Uncle' first. Ker'ak'de wasn't at all prepared for a full battle of wills against a pup so young. The harder he pulled on her, the louder she screamed and the harder she tugged on him in return once she realized she couldn't pry him off. Bending up his knees to plant his feet firmly, he surged his hips upwards in a serpentine like writhe that knocked Nancy off balance, sliding her down his torso until her fleshy side connected with his throat. Her upper body now tucked against his armpit, the arm wrestle with Veronica and Linda raging just over head, Nancy struggled to regain her breathing and bearings. Constantly rising and falling with the Yaut's breathing, Nancy regrouped.

Swinging her left leg over his chest, she straddled his chest with both hands planted on his breastbone. Heaving and bucking, she adjusted as best she could with small gasps and cries, his near naked state leaving nothing for her to grab hold of before she finally reached the end of her rope. The hallway fights, the inner circle scared and feigning back, Nancy let the rage boil inside her stomach. Acid bubbling, waving up her throat with Meg's parting words in her head before this entire adventure began she sucked in as much air as her lungs could hold and let loose a blood curdling scream.

Backed by the power of her lungs it shot like an explosive round towards the elevator in front of her, then bounced along the hallways on either side before rebounding to echo behind her. All of the frustration, the hidden fear, the lack of sleep, the excitement, it all fueled the guttural sound that filled the level around them, topping them all as she contracted her muscles to shove out an even higher octave with her face tilted to the ceiling and hands grasping deep into the Yaut's flesh. Her short nails cutting semi-circular moons into his scaly skin, some faintly glowing with neon green blood almost at the surface she bent at the waist a bit and powered out the soul shrieking sound until its very end, running out of air, strength and steam.

Her throat raw and slightly coppery when she finally swallowed, Nancy sucked in great gulps of air for several moments with the sound of her own power still ringing in her ears. Huffing and panting, she collapsed slightly with bent elbows as she bowed her head and struggled to reinflate her burning chest.

Absolute silence crushed the area.

"Trophies...," Nancy croaked, barely audible as her throat rebounded with fresh licks of pain as she swallowed.

No one answered back, not right away. Veronica felt herself come around slowly, struggling through lethargy of shock that she hadn't known she'd fallen into. Blinking her burning eyes, sure that they'd been wider than what was comfortable and stuck open like a doll's, she exhaled in a rush of relief. Apparently she'd been holding her breath, too. "What?"

"Trophies," Nancy repeated, no less scratchy but louder than before as she held her hunched pose over the Yaut. "'Do you have a lot of trophies,' not heads."

"You heard that?" Veronica asked with incredulous surprise, her brows knitting together sharply.

"What's the difference?" Anna posed in a breathy tone, struggling to calm down after her own tussle with the Yaut whose dreads she still fisted but loosely now.

"The difference is," Nancy said after another swallow, less painful this time, and finally raising her head to take stock of the picture directly before her. "Once they sever the head from the body with or without the spine, they don't call it a head anymore. They call it a trophy because they take it with them."

Anna continued to breathe in deep pants but it was hard to see her face. Ker'ak'de had kept hold of the young girls hair as surely as she had his and it kept Anna's head mostly angled downwards. The once cute pixie cut had been growing out for awhile, now almost shaggy. Amused despite herself, Nancy lifted her brows at the scene frozen in time.

"But it's the same thing!" Anna complained, struggling to lift her head despite the hold keeping her in place.

"I suppose it is." Nancy conceded, trying to piece together what had happened to get the two of them locked in childish combat. When the shouts had started signaling the aliens had returned for a fight, she'd temporarily tuned out their inner circle to stand and direct her classmates but had tried to keep half an ear attuned to the things closest to her person. It wasn't easy; in fact it had made her exceedingly anxious. No matter how many high marks she'd received for precision in multitasking, doing so in stressful situations always left Nancy feeling doubtful.

Even now her heart pounded. Her breathing had slowed to a more manageable level but she could feel her pulse strongly in various parts of her body, especially her temples. The Yaut's gaze was as wide open as everyone else's seemed to be, having taken a brief cursory glance around her but she couldn't seem to make herself meet his eyes in particular on the off chance he was watching her own and they'd collide. She felt too conflicted.

The continued silence lulled Nancy's eyes closed and she didn't fight it, she'd seen enough. Her classmates were all staring at her like she was some kind of freak show for screaming like she did and a fresh wave of embarrassment swept through her, leaving her gasping for breath again as she continued to sit astride the Yaut. That point in particular she absolutely refused to focus on, too unsure of her ultimate reaction if she allowed herself to think on it. Ignoring the impossible, the deep and dramatic rise and fall of the Yaut's chest that kept her bobbing like a boat in an ocean, the slight but natural heat of his lotioned skin as it rubbed the insides of her thighs and the thundering multiple beat of his twin hearts under her sweaty palms she instead made herself breathe in through her nose and out through her mouth.

"T3," she suddenly shouted, struggling not to wince as her abused throat flared up again. "T3, what's going on?"

The crowd around her slowly started to wake up, much like Veronica did, at this latest commanding shout. Those closest, the numerous massagers, especially. When Nancy had screamed, they'd stopped holding their ears and instead had scuttled back, actually pushing hard against those standing behind them to create a circle of open space around the Yaut. It wasn't very wide between them, but it was symbolic and the students seemed to finally notice it with varying reactions. Veronica's hawk like eyes swept them all, making contact with as many individuals as would meet her gaze before they quickly looked away and painstakingly scooted closer, surrounding them anew.

"T1," a distant female voice shouted from Nancy's left, "we're okay! We wounded the alien and it ran off!"

"T2," another female voice raised from Nancy's right, "we're alright, alien ran away pretty fast!"

Nancy waited another few seconds but had yet to hear a shout from T3, the hallway directly behind her and cringed inside a split second before the anger came. Unknown to her, her hands had relaxed and released their death grip on the Yaut's chest beneath her. Instead they'd started to massage him, feeling the slight slickness of the left over lotion that needed to be rubbed in along with the faint and passing depressions of her nails. A sudden purring vibration rocketed up her arms and legs, tingling her skin and chasing a hard shudder up the column of her spine until she groaned.

"T3," she called out shakily but with her usual strength back at last, "what's going on with you?"

No one answered her as the purring vibrations continued. It tingled, tickled, excited and soothed all at the same time but still she didn't dare open her eyes and look at the Yaut below her. She'd just started to regain her confidence, hauling it up bucket by bucket from deep within straining strength and waning energy. He couldn't see that in her eyes, she couldn't let him. Operating solely by instinct, Nancy wasn't lying when she'd told Veronica that she didn't know what she was doing. She'd wrestled control away from Brittany at the last second due to her gut.

Meg had wanted Brittany, not her. Brittany was supposed to be the team leader on their Level. She was slightly older, slightly taller and tougher by all accounts. She didn't mince words, she didn't hold back. She didn't sugar coat anything or respect anyone's feelings, simply saying what was on her mind and expecting everyone's compliance like she was a goddess. Nancy didn't agree with that or with Brittany half the time.

"T3!" Nancy shouted, louder than before despite the coppery tang of blood. "Talk to me!"

The vibrations increased beneath her and Nancy struggled not to make another sound though the need to groan again was almost overwhelming. Anna had commented earlier that she could feel the power of the Yaut as he growled from a couple feet away and Nancy knew what she meant, but she hadn't counted on _this_. Direct physical contact as it happened. Nancy was twelve, still so young and so clueless about males in general. Absolutely no male teachers were allowed in their specific colony and it had been a lifetime since she'd been around them, let alone one of another species. She wasn't prepared.

Regardless, after Meg's orders and everyone had filed out with their assignments she'd felt slightly rebellious. Overlooked, under appreciated and frankly, it felt _wrong._ Nancy had fought her conflicting feelings, biting her tongue and forcing herself to take direction from Brittany until the moment the elevator had dinged. Somehow, someway, Nancy had known.

"Nancy?" Veronica murmured softly from her left. "Are you alright?"

No, she wasn't, but she couldn't say that. Cramping inside, Nancy breathed in a huge shuddery breath and released it with slumped shoulders, her eyes still closed. Even her brain was buzzing from the Yaut who never stopped his odd purring, the vibrations continuing to come. Brittany was the better fighter and she could be dead right now since she wasn't answering. Nancy had pulled a fast one, and a classmate might have suffered for it. Her heart twisted.

"She's freaking out," Linda's posh voice accused from her left. "What're we supposed to do?"

"No she's not!" Anna broke in, still restricted by the Yaut's unrelenting hold on her hair. Wincing noticeably, she managed to turn her small head a bit in their direction to give the barrette wearing blond the stink eye. "Shut up!"

"Don't tell me to shut up!" Linda's voice rose, slightly panicky under her air of superiority.

"Will you stop it? Both of you!" Veronica bit out, darting her gaze between Anna and Linda, exasperated. "Nancy's thinking. Let her think. We're all stressed out and could use a break. Just relax."

"She's not thinking, she's freaking out!" Linda charged again, letting go of the Yaut's forearm finally to sit back on her calves and cross her arms over her chest, narrowing her eyes. "You heard her; she doesn't know what she's doing!"

"Shut up!" Anna shouted, flinging an arm out to try and smack the blond but coming up quite short in distance. "Shut. Up! You don't know what you're doing either!"

"What if they come back?" Linda snapped, leaning forward a bit to challenge little Anna. "What if the aliens come back and they kill us all? You trust _Nancy_," Linda slurred the name in the negative, "to save us? You're stupid!"

"I'm not stupid!" Anna shrieked, letting the Yaut's dreads go finally to flip the middle finger on both her hands at Linda. "I do trust Nancy; she knows what she's doing. She's got everything under control. You're the one that's freaking out because you're prissy and stupid and scared!"

"Stop it, both of you, please!" Veronica begged, keeping hold of the Yaut's hand in both of her own while ping ponging her desperate gaze between Anna, Linda and Nancy pointedly, silently pleading with her friend to intervene with her voice.

Ker'ak'de in the meantime had no idea what any of them were saying, and at this point, he didn't care. Nancy's scream had shattered his psyche, rendering him immobile as he kept hold of little Anna while staring right at the strong female as she'd straddled him and dug in as if for the long haul. His skin burned from her nails and his heart pounded from the scents she was pumping out. Insubordination. He'd experienced that himself many times in his life. Not directly as a leader, but as a bystander and he knew, he just _knew_ that it was happening to this Ooman pup sitting on him and that she was fighting silently, internally, for control over herself and the hundreds that packed the three hallways around them. She was so young.

He'd purred out of instinct the moment he scented her anew after that soul searing scream and as of yet he couldn't stop. He could breath separately from the purr in his chest, it didn't trouble him. What did however was the young female's inaction and closed eyes. His knees were still bent, his feet still planted on the catwalk but his head was raised. Little Anna's forehead would bump off of his occasionally but he paid the little pup no mind. He had eyes only for Nancy but she wouldn't meet his and he didn't know why. During the purr, he'd trilled softly but still she didn't respond.

In his culture, despondency from a female was a worry. It rarely happened but it wasn't completely unheard of. Considering this pup's age, it was only natural as she was still coming into her own. This was perhaps the biggest test of her dominance to date and even though it involved him and continued to prick his male pride, his sensitive spirit rallied to support her. He didn't stop to wonder why. He was sure his mind couldn't even fathom it. Nothing as of yet made any sense.

Reacting purely on instinct as a male to a female, his purr continued undeterred. Still she wouldn't meet his eyes or command those around her, not like before. Tucking in his upper mandibles, he flared the bottom ones in a frown and narrowed his eyes. Releasing his hold on little Anna finally, he also tugged purposefully at the hand that the other female held, Veronica. Her gaze snapped to his quickly and widened as she tightened on him, fighting him, but he wouldn't be persuaded, not in this. Without the others to massage him, he was coming online again. Awakening, becoming alert and growing assertive as a full grown male. Reaching across, he grabbed hold of one of Veronica's wrists and squeezed with a low growl. As the pressure increased, her wide eyes grew wider and she started to squirm, whimpering.

"Oh my god!" Linda shrieked, leaning away in self protection. "Let him go! Let go!" She grabbed hold of Veronica's upper arm closest to her, shaking. "He'll hurt you, let go! We're losing control of him. Oh my god, oh my god!"

"Stop it!" Anna whined, now freed as she went back to work, trying to massage his temples like Nancy had told her to earlier but she was so shaky it was a half-assed job while her stress grew. Readjusting her position since the Yaut's head was up, she changed out how her little legs were crossed, putting the leg on the bottom on the top in the Indian position.

"Ow, please!" Veronica whimpered, her left wrist held in a vise like grip as she struggled to hold out, furiously massaging his wrist and palm with her right hand while squirming and bowing down from the pressure. "Please, don't!"

Nancy heard all of this as if from a distance. Having yet to open her eyes, she struggled to make sense of her situation and the sensations growing inside of her. The... purring was doing things to her that she hadn't planned on. Her lower half was on fire now, throbbing, tingling and building a growing ache throughout her body that she didn't know how to stop or combat. She felt slightly light headed, her skin tight over her muscles which were tense and locked up, her blood pounding through her veins and pooling low. She didn't know what it meant, any of it. It felt so foreign, so strange but so... good.

Breathing in deeper, a tight rubbery band seemed to constrict around her chest, fighting her as she shivered and tightened her tingling thighs around the Yaut's expending ribcage like a rider on a horse that she'd seen in historical videos. Toes curling within her shoes, she shuddered in a breath and let it out in ripples. The throbbing continued to grow.

Groaning helplessly, her arms buckled a bit where they'd planted on the Yaut's chest as she shook from head to toe and finally, forcefully, peeled open her drozey eyes. Blooms of color flooded her cheekbones, feeling like a flash of heat as it prickled over her scalp, down her neck and onto her chest hidden by her blouse. _What...?_

Her vision hazy, Nancy blinked a few times as she continued to pant, fingertips digging into the Yaut's chest on their own. Squeezing, she kneaded the heavily layered muscles without her nails above each of his pectorals. Gazing at the top of his breastbone, Nancy slowly lifted her gaze over his four sectioned mouth parts to his eyes. What she saw there stopped her heart for a fraction of a second. He was staring at Veronica, but enough was seen to kick start her pulse even faster than what it had been. "Shhhh," she hushed instinctively, kneading his flesh deeper as best she could.

Ker'ak'de flexed at the sound, hardening his muscles, and suddenly Nancy's fingers met a brick wall of resistance in their massage. She kept on anyway, massaging in small circles with her fingertips as her palms pressed hard with her body weight. "Shh, it's alright. You're alright. Hey..." Her voice trailed off.

Ker'ak'de jerked his head around immediately, colliding with Nancy's eyes as his purr ramped up several notches on instinct. His hold on Veronica eased off, and while he heard her exhale of relief and felt her struggle to keep massaging him, he focused completely on Nancy. Even Anna's continued head and neck massage were forgotten.

Nancy drew in another deep breath, but Ker'ak'de saw her heat signature ignite. She'd been even brighter than before, but now she was positively on fire. A scarlet red, bordering on white from head to toe he met her gaze. Eye sockets so white they glared, he couldn't look away. Chuffing the air in slight confusion, he registered the lingering panic, confusion and apprehension of the crowd around him but the almost sickening sweetness of Nancy enthralled him completely. She was reacting to him. Not as an alien species, but as a male. An individual. Her scent called to him for support, for protection, for comfort, for reassurance. Unlike before when her scent and voice were commanding, now she was... submissive.

He felt conflicted. Painfully torn in two, and his tusks clacked together in agitation. His male pride recognized that she was noticing him as a male, finding him worthy, deserving though he hadn't done a thing, so on the tail end it felt... wrong. His spirit sensed her weakness of youth, on the cusp of adulthood and responsibility, of true physical authority and he ached.

Ker'ak'de didn't feel like himself and it worried him. No matter how hard he tried to rein himself in, to grapple and control everything that was warring inside of him he lost out. Powerless to impulse, he released Veronica and now with two free hands, hard, large and callused; he gripped just above Nancy's knees on both legs before sliding them slowly upwards.

Stopping at midthigh, he felt the pup shudder and suck in her breath. Her pores sprayed pheromones. Intoxicating, indicative, deceiving. She wasn't old enough. Not yet, but his body reacted anyway by tightening up. Abs rippling, pecs flexing under her grasping hands he gripped the grated floor with his clawed toes and flicked out his tongue like a snake.

Once, twice, three times. His purr continuing, he growled low in his throat, lower than ever before as his pupils blew wide open until barely any color could be seen. He liked this Ooman pup. He liked her a lot. Immediately his conscious screamed that she was young, too young, a mere _pup_ and he needed to respect her age. In contrast, his soul screamed out that it needed her, liked her, and craved her. His body was the hardest to control. Twitching, aching, cramping, he suddenly sat up with a hard contraction of his abs that was fluid in motion.

Nancy gasped in a short breath as she slid down without a choice, the graduation of his chest forcing her weight back in a slow slide as the fabric of her skirt and underwear slowed her progress, bunching and tangling as she went in a narrow and narrower stance until she rested on his lap, squirming slightly, uncomfortable. Her hands remaining on his upper chest, she tilted up her chin to meet his gaze. His eyes were hard, expressive, and overly bright. Mandibles slightly flared, he chuffed the air a few more times before letting out a faint whining sound that ended on a shuddering grating groan.

"N-Nancy?" Veronica hedged, having been unable to keep hold of the Yaut, her hands remained up, shaking a bit as she seemed to debate grabbing hold of him again. Even little Anna seemed confused, her hands resting casually on his back as she bit on her lower lip with wide eyes, trembling and glancing at Veronica since she could no longer see Nancy.

Lost in the Yaut's gaze, now up close and personal, Nancy drew in another deep breath and groaned fully on the exhale this time. She'd noticed his smell before. Earthy, salty like sweat, musky. A normal male smell she'd guessed but now, now it seemed different. There was a specific spice note in the air, in her nostrils that she couldn't quite place. It tickled her senses, deepened the earthiness of him and elevated the musk until her head swam. Lifting her hands, palms pressing up to the Yaut's shoulders, she curled her fingers around the tops and shuddered hard, confused.

Ker'ak'de continued his purr as the female slid down to his lap. Containing his own shudder at the contact, his large rough hands slowly pressed up, sliding, to her hips where they stayed. Fingers flexing slightly, her savored the softness of her skin. So smooth compared to his calluses. Sand on glass, he remembered, having touched Anna's back but this was... different. Wrong. It was _wrong_ and he should be ashamed of himself.

He was on a certain level and if he focused on it he knew he'd feel sickened, agitated, trapped and would lose control in order to break free of these annoying pups and their confusing games. He was an Honorable Warrior, second in command to one of the most respected, feared and admired Elders in recent history. He was a Hunter of all things and there were hard meats loose in this complex that he needed to track down, kill, and dissemble for trophies. Ooman's were always high on the hunt list in his Clan but these were mere pups, not adults. _The Ooman is a pup. A small, insignificant pup. _

Before Ker'ak'de knew what was happening, he was growling in earnest as his constant purring faded and died away to nothing. Despite staring Nancy right in the eyes, in the face, he was failing to see _her _anymore as his thoughts built, strengthened and started to solidify once more. Oblivious to the small voices around him gasping, murmuring and breaking out in nervous chatter he released a hand to grip the pup's throat purposefully.

It was a tight fit and though Nancy gasped a small breath, her chin came up. Whether because his broad palm had forced it up or she consciously directed the overly submissive gesture Ker'ak'de couldn't be sure. For a brief second he faltered and his prominent brow wrinkled, mandibles twitching together uneasily. It felt _wrong._ Honorable Warrior Ker'ak'de was well within his right to assert his dominance, to hold the pup as he was. Honorable Warrior Ker'ak'de knew just how much pressure to exert so as not to hurt the Ooman as his thick long fingers flexed, adjusted and tucked together to make a seal.

Nancy's effortless and continued submission was _wrong. _Her wide eyes, so clear and still white to his vision was _wrong. _The whole situation was _wrong_ on an entirely new level that Ker'ak'de couldn't even begin to understand. Even that thought made no sense because everything about his time in this complex so far made no sense. Left him confused, disjointed, uncertain. How could this new turn of events possibly complicate matters that were unbelievable to begin with?

"Nancy? Nancy are you alright?" Veronica's voice broke into the mix again, sounding skittish but with a backbone that wasn't sure if now was the time to assert itself.

"I told you she's freaking out!" Linda blurted in a hissed whisper.

"Nancy? Talk to me, please?"

"She's freaking _out_ I told you!" Linda hissed again, leaning closer to Veronica's ear as she gripped the girl's upper arm hard with both hands, giving a violent but tightly controlled shake. "You have to _do_ something!"

"What? What's happening?" Anna pleaded, still unable to see and growing more desperate to try as time went on. Coming out of her sitting position, the little girl rocked up onto her knees and stretched as much as her tiny body could, trying to see around the big Yaut's side to her two classmates yet she couldn't. "What's he doing to Nancy?"

"She's not freaking out, will you stop it!" Veronica bit out at Linda, sharply turning her head to stare down the disheveled blond with growing impatience. "She's calm, just wait."

"She's not calm and you know it! She's out of her freaking mind, and if you don't do something about this I will." Linda gritted out through clenched teeth, narrowing her eyes at the bird like brunette beside her, squeezing harder on her arm. "She shouldn't be here anyway, it should be Brittany!"

"Nancy? Nancy! What's happening to Nancy?!" Anna's panic continued to grow without an answer to her questions, yet she was too well schooled to disobey an order so she didn't shuffle aside to peer around the Yaut though she could have. Her knees were glues to the uncomfortable grating and her hands fluttered, sometimes massaging the males back and sometimes pausing, inconsistent and ineffective as her voice pitched dangerously high.

Nancy was distantly aware of the crowd around her, of the massagers slowly moving away again, of the two girls quietly fighting off to the side and little Anna growing upset but she couldn't seem to move a muscle or bring herself to care. Her entire being and focus was lasered on the extraterrestrial male before her who seemed to grow more ominous and menacing as time passed. She knew that his gigantic hand was at her throat, knew that he had only to squeeze or thrash her aside violently to kill her yet she still couldn't move.

It was the most terrifying and humbling moment of her entire short life. She didn't want to die, not like Brittany who might be dead. Not like Brittany who should be here in her place instead of in T3 who refused to answer her. There was no doubt about it, she'd lost control of the entire situation and had absolutely no idea what to do about it. Not yet. Not with her body still running amok with foreign sensations on top of her exhaustion, doubts and fears. Worst of all, this male was looking at all of it in her eyes, right now. Common sense screamed at her to close to her eyes, to cut him off, but she couldn't.

There was nothing she could do about her smell, no way to mask it, knowing it was backing up what he saw written plain as day in her face as she whimpered pathetically and felt her lower lip tremble. _I'm just a kid, _she thought sadly. _Just a kid who doesn't know what she's doing. I'm gonna get them killed._ "Please...," she whispered hoarsely.

Ker'ak'de narrowed his eyes, still not understanding anything except the sinking submission that this pup kept drowning in. Her pulse was frantic against his palm and her thin skin was clammy with sweat. She stunk of useless emotions and he found himself growling even louder. Gone was the pup from before who commanded him despite _being _a pup, and for a lightening flash of regret, longing and pain he missed that side of the Ooman. Missed how _he_ felt in her particular presence. Now she was weak and pathetic, thrusting the reality of their situation back on to his shoulders. His rank, his responsibility, his Clan identity as an Honorable Warrior. His male pride was in full force, his spirit crushed.

In that moment, he hated the Ooman and his fist slowly tightened on her thin vulnerable throat as he drew her closer to his face. Nancy leaned as he pulled, not even trying to stop him despite the pressure noosing around her. On some level, she felt relieved that someone else was in control. That things were out of her hands. Before she could stop them, the whispered words tumbled out as his tusk tipped mandibles fanned around her smaller face.

"Nancy," she murmured for his ears alone. "My name is Nancy."

Ker'ak'de lowered his growl, straining to hear her words though he knew he wouldn't understand. It was annoying yet relieving how quickly he'd responded to her regardless. Readjusting his hold around her neck, his fingers rippled in a wave like pattern from index to pinky as his thumb sprang free, off to the side a bit. Hot, humid breath blasted over her.

Nancy breathed in deeply whenever he exhaled, which made no sense. Her lungs struggled a bit to draw in enough air off to the side, anything to counteract the massive amount of carbon dioxide he emitted. That alone seemed to calm her. He was like them in that way, so she blinked slowly before arching her neck, straining to see his eyes more clearly. Her hands still rested, clutched, to the tops of his massive shoulders so she dug in harder with her grip.

"Nancy," she murmured again into his inner maw, his mandibles now having spread open enough that all four tusks rested and twitched against the sides of her head. She didn't dare look down at the sharp inner teeth though she knew they were there. Instead she kept struggling, climbing, fighting to keep a lock on his eyes.

Ker'ak'de trilled before he could check the impulse, the sound alone questioning as he wrinkled his brow.

"Nancy," she said again, stronger this time but still pitched low as she released a hand to slid slowly from his shoulder down over his chest, stopping above one of his twin hearts. Pressing in with her palm, she gripped with her fingertips.

Immediately, Ker'ak'de tensed from head to toe, his eyes blowing wide with surprise as he sucked in a massive breath and in impulse tried to snap his mandibles' closed but couldn't because her head blocked the way. She couldn't know. She couldn't possibly know or understand what that chest press meant. It was _wrong!_ Yet her eyes had changed, still a glaring, blinding white but with a faint gray outline that suggested she asserted herself. Reflexively, his fingers dug into the back of her neck as his thumb rubbed the length of her jaw on the right.

"Nancy's freaking out!" Linda's voice suddenly shrieked from the sidelines, sounding like a bolt gun or pulse rifle in Nancy's ears. Instantaneously, the present caught up with her like holding the fast forward button on a holo tape. "If no one will do anything then I will!" Suddenly releasing Veronica, Linda grabbed hold of Nancy's left arm and shook her harshly before jerking her sideways. Crying out as the Yaut's tusks drew blood on her cheeks and temples, Nancy crumpled.

"Nancy!" Anna cried, digging in tight with her fingers to the Yaut's back.

"Stop it!" Veronica cried again, grabbing frantically at Linda.

Ker'ak'de snapped out of his stalemate along with Nancy, instantly loosening his hold on her as the other pup grabbed and yanked. Blinking rapidly through his cycling confusion, he heard the Ooman cry out and he simply reacted. Roaring in anger, he twisted his torso and grabbed hold of Linda's blouse again tightly, clenching it in his fist to drag her close.

Roaring again into her small face, he let his mandibles flare out completely in a full spread with his maw open, drenching her in his breath and displeasure as her body banged up against his side, dragged by the knees across the grating.

Linda screamed bloody murder, clutching at his hand and wrist with clenched eyes and a wrinkled up face as she leaned back as far as possible, arching away from his closeness in pure fear. His lungs were much bigger than hers, so long before he was done she'd sucked in another panicked breath to yell, "He's gonna kill us, we're gonna die!"

Nancy snapped to attention so suddenly, so instantly that her bones ached and her head throbbed painfully. She'd heard upper classmen describe the feelings of a hyper-jump and though she wasn't in the transport center she seemed to understand at last what they meant. Gone were the crushing feelings, the helplessness, the doubts and instead she simply steeled her spine and reacted. Flooded with adrenaline and purpose, she shouted in command.

"Lean in, massage!"

When the crowd around them still chattered, seemingly uncertain and scared it only sparked her anger. Twisting her own torso, the large hand around her neck loose enough to break free she knocked it aside with considerable force. "Massage, now! Now, massage him, _move_!"

With yelps, bodily jerks and cries in the affirmative the surrounding crowd sprung to action as if they'd been hibernating. Quickly fresh lotion was pumped into waiting hands as they got to work again on the male before them. Converging on his legs from toe to thigh, his arms, even little Anna in the back yipped and scrambled as the bottle was passed around and crossed her. So skittish and wound up she didn't bother to pass the bottle to Veronica, she simply threw it at the brunette who chirped in surprise and caught it awkwardly against her chest before catching Nancy's eye.

"Massage," Nancy growled out. "Now."

Veronica's eyes widened as she nodded quickly, scrambling with the bottle to coat her hands before jammed it harshly against Linda's side. Squealing, Linda squirmed and wriggled in the Yaut's hold, the bottle ignored and dropping to the catwalk with a heavily bouncing thunk.

"Now, now, _move!_" Nancy's voice rose with steely authority as the bottle was quickly snatched up and passed around in a circuit. Her own body in the way, Nancy breathed deep and hugged her skirted thighs around the Yaut's hips in his lap, squeezing as tight as she possibly could before gripping hold of his own naked throat.

Ker'ak'de's roar died off as he shot his head to Nancy, an angry flare of rage still blazing in his expressive eyes as Anna yelped behind them, getting whipped with his dreads at the quick move. Releasing his throat, she grabbed both sides of his face tightly in her hands and lowered her voice, narrowing her eyes. "Let. Go."

Growling again in challenge, Ker'ak'de jerked his torso forward, bumping into Nancy as he breathed deep to let loose another roar. Nancy was having none of it. Not now. Snarling she slid her hands down to grip both of his lower mandibles tightly, yanking them open to the sides and tightening to jerk his face closer, their foreheads almost crashing.

"I said, LET GO!" She thundered, rising up onto her knees despite the painful spread of her thighs as she sat on him. Muscles quaking, she tensed repeatedly to keep her pose and dug in tighter with her fingers.

Ker'ak'de instantly went still as the great breath he'd taken rushed out of him in a defeated whine. The sound was submissive even to his own ears and his pride pricked painfully, wracking his body with a twitchy shudder. That part of him was deflating, beaten back and crippled to the point that he struggled at first to resurrect it. Shoving Linda back from him with enough force that she screamed again before crashing into classmates, he seized Nancy's blouse in a death grip and met her head on. His dreads rising around his crown in full bristle, his pupils narrowed as he jerked his knees up closer to his chest in a sitting position, knocking into Nancy's back and forcing her tight into his chest.

"Nancy!" Veronica cried, twisting away from Linda's flung body and knocking herself off balance, she hit the catwalk on her hip and grimaced, wrists braced with hands lifted up to preserve the lotion covering them.

"Nancy what's happening?!" Anna followed up, shrieking the question at the Yaut's back though she was furiously massaging him, still up on her knees.

"BACK OFF!" Nancy roared in his face, her expression so contracted that he couldn't see her eyes anymore. Her whole body was tense, strong and commanding as she tightened her hold on his mandibles and jerked with full force. Powerless to stop her, their foreheads collided painfully. "Back off. NOW!"

Still he struggled. His claws cutting through the fabric of her blouse, he roared again on an exhale, crushing her between his raised legs and his chest. Nancy felt trapped, pinned, compressed, yet as painful as it was it was also comforting as her hips tilted, her weight shifted and she yanked more fiercely on his mandibles. Forearms parallel to the ground and bunched high up, she locked herself in place while staring into his wild eyes.

"Back off," she snarled, so close that her lips actually brushed his inner maw. The teeth there smooth, stained slightly yellow but pristine in texture as they panted into each others spaces. Ignoring the ridiculous impulse to lick his teeth, Nancy trembled and curled her fingers more securely. Her thumbs on the insides, her fingers wrapped over the top with his lower tusks in between she squeezed and shook him, thrusting out her developing chest to bang against him. "Back. Off."

Panting harshly, Ker'ak'de fought with himself. Forgotten was Nancy's strength in the beginning. The only thing his pride remembered was her capitulation into submission, prodding him to rise to the occasion and dominate. He was Honorable Warrior Ker'ak'de, always the victor with his inner conflict and doubts never known. He always rose to the occasion, always survived, always the victor. Growling again, he snapped his upper mandibles closed against Nancy's temples.

She flinched slightly, and he was tempted to back off. He could smell her blood, knew that he'd injured her when her counterpart had grabbed her yet he couldn't stand down. This pup, and she was a pup, had shown weakness. The predator in him couldn't easily ignore that. The grip she held on his mandibles was beyond painful, yet he could endure. He'd been through worse. He could survive a mere _pup_, insignificant, pathetic, undesirable. _An Ooman pup._

"Nancy," she barked harshly into his mouth.

He growled louder, tightening his hands on her blouse. _Undesirable. Ooman pup._

"I will win," she murmured, lowering her voice out of the blue and catching him slightly off guard. "I'm in charge, and we _will _brush your teeth, Yautja." Lifting her thumbs, she scratched them down the length of his lower mandible tusks. They slid smoothly at first until reaching the last bit near his flesh, scratching and skipping over the rough pitted surface of plaque. "You will submit to me. You don't have a choice."

His growl fading out, he chuffed in the next breath or two and suddenly stilled. Remembering the odd smelly tube that the other pup had carried, the scent of mint strong on his palette, he snapped his maw shut tightly. _Cetanu, save me._


	9. Chapter 9

**Okay, I was wrong - Bak'ub demanded his own chapter too. I hate these characters, LOL. NOW I hope they're done. These were meant to be split chapters. Try telling them that, I guess. *sigh* I don't own Aliens/Predator but the humans I do. Thank you again to all of my reviewers, I appreciate it. I hope to hear from more of you in the future, so drop me a line. :) NOTE: More clues revealed, plus action and oopsies!**

The momentary quiet was suddenly shattered as the water poured down by the bucketfuls. The pups in the cafeteria screamed and cried out in surprise, both at being drenched so thoroughly so quickly and by the chill of the temperature. They scattered rapidly, crossing each others paths, dodging, pushing and ducking to disappear from sight. The few that slipped and fell quickly regained their footing, helped along by grabbing hands from others.

Before Bak'ub even knew what was happening, it was all over. Besides the constant shrieking from the wall alarms and the pressurized hissing of the water showering all around, he could detect no other sounds. The pups had ceased to make noise, and ceased to appear in his visual scans. He was immediately on alert and felt uneasy.

Growling perhaps louder than he should, he took purposeful steps back and away from the hard meat carcass at his feet and slowly turned in a wide circle, rapidly cycling through his vision filters. The chilling temperature of the water was doing quick work for disabling his heat scans, turning everything to a various and mundane shade of blue. Feeling his unease increasing by the second as he was in a sense going blind, he cycled again and again without much result.

In UV the only thing detectable was the waning light from the window bank, if he didn't count the swirling red lights that accompanied the sirens up along the edge of each wall. The falling water was clearly seen in many of his filters, obscuring what little he could make out by speeding vertical lines of wet interference.

The situation and his hold on himself were rapidly coming undone at the same time. Thrusting out his chest and cushioning his knees in a light bend, he spread both his arms wide to the side and kept his chin up in a position of challenge as he continued to turn circles, slowly drifting in the area, never far from the fallen body of his soon to be trophy.

His cloak was failing. Not even thirty seconds from the onset of the fire sprinklers, his electrical system was malfunctioning, adding to his irritation and growing sense of vulnerability. Growling again, he struggled to corral his twitching and fluttering mandibles without much success. The constant tapping inside his mask kept his filters cycling, faster and faster until he began to feel slightly disoriented and dizzy.

Shutting his eyes tight and pausing in place, swaying ominously for a moment, he blindly groped and tapped at the computer strapped to one wrist as the electrical snaps, pops, buzz and crackle of his cloaking system continued to get worse. Ordinarily when it powered on or off, it sent a blanketing flash of static like electricity running along the skin. If an Ooman wore it, their hair would probably stand on end. In Bak'ub's case, that flashing sensation was as much stuck on a loop as his vision filters, only adding to his growing sense of panic.

Ultimately, he snapped like a bone. Roaring loud enough to rattle the metal walls themselves, he quickly spun on the ball of one foot and kicked out viciously at a table, sending it somersaulting high and long to scrape and bang over the tops of some others before finally crashing and breaking against the wall behind Beth, not even ten feet from her.

Beth didn't know if her knees finally gave out or instinct won over, but she was on the ground in a flash with her knees tucked to her chest and her arms braced over and around her dripping wet head. It was unheard of to break plasti-wood, yet when she turned her head to peer out from under an armpit the once round table had been obliterated, laying in three big pieces with smaller ones flung about. Even the heli-steel legs were bent, half the bolts popped lose.

Blaming the feeling of blood rushing out of her face and upper body to the frigidness of the water falling all around them, she exhaled shakily, not surprised to see her breath steaming slightly in the air before her. Meg wasn't kidding when she said that these guys were essentially unstable testosterone bombs just waiting to go off. She'd fully prepared to deal with the Xeno's, or _kainde amedha_as Meg called them, never thinking that she should spend much time worrying about flesh and bone male explosives. Figuring it was never too late to eat your own arrogance, Beth swallowed tightly.

This guy was definitely detonating and fast. A couple other tables were airborne to suffer the same fate as the first before long, along with a couple chairs and benches. One even shattered to pieces against the wall directly over her head where she was crouched and tucked. She was a couple feet from leaning against it, so perhaps that saved her, but debris still rained down on her. Heavier with painful edges, making her eyes water with tears a lot more than the smoke had yet she bit down on her tongue so she didn't cry out. Beth was the only one stuck out in the open and she couldn't afford to call attention to herself just yet, not with this guy losing his marbles.

The real problem was battling the cold. She was shivering so hard that her muscles ached and her skin felt numb. Her lips were probably even blue but she had no way to tell that as the continual fall of water plastered her thin blouse to her arms and back, her poly-wool skirt sheeting with it. Unable to feel her fingers, Beth flexed them repetitively anyway despite the horrible trembling in her hands. During their Emergency Safety and Evacuation classes, held en mass once a week, they'd always said that the water would be cool but not freezing. This had to be Meg's doing. But why?

Feeling lethargic, in part due to the trials she'd just gone through but in large part due to the cold, Beth struggled valiantly to remain coherent and sharp as she raised her head and slicked back her hair with both hands. It was hard to see what was going on through the fall of water, but she could make out some things. Her classmates had taken refuge under various tables to her right, further back in the cafeteria closer to the window banks. The tops acted as a shelter, water gushing over the edges and pooling along the floor shallowly. Drains set in the solid floor were hard at work, their vacuuming sounds faintly heard as they drained away any build up as fast as possible.

Across the way, she could see distorted shapes through the oval windows leading into the kitchen. More of them were in there, as drenched as she was and struggling to see. The various fires had been put out, the hard meat body still smoking slightly or steaming, Beth wasn't sure. If it wasn't for Elizabeth's quick thinking to douse the alien with grease then set it on fire by jamming it against the gas range with a table to pin it, who knows what might've happened when it had dropped suddenly down from the ceiling panels, having sensed a warm place. They all owed Elizabeth their lives.

Beth couldn't see the statuesque brunette with the short, slightly curly hair but she knew she had to be there somewhere, watching, suffering and waiting as she was. Elizabeth's plan had worked, until _he_ showed up, unannounced. Looking straight ahead and panting shallowly, shivering and barely maintaining her balance, Beth finally allowed herself to look at the guy.

He was fully visible now, when before he'd been completely invisible. Even with the burning hard meat as a backdrop, the guy was nothing more than a faint shimmer at the edges, catching all of them off guard. Now he kept... showing and going. One second he wasn't there and the next he was or different parts of him were, surrounding by arcing blue light. Through it all he kept raging, bellowing and acting out like he was one of them throwing a fit. Beth was definitely scared, terrified actually but seeing the guy act like a kid also made her feel a bit better. She didn't know what his problem was, but the downpour was obviously pissing him off. Finally, he just... stayed there. Fully visible, and Beth looked him over with water dripping from her lashes and pooling in her shoes, making her feet ache with cold.

He was dark, like she was, only darker. Nearly black, or maybe he was but the cold was turning his skin ashen as hers was. His belly and the inner parts of him were lighter, but he seemed to be streaked with color otherwise. It was hard to tell from the distance if it was green or blue but sometimes she caught flashes of either one, not stripes but spots almost that seemed to run together, a couple connected with bleeding lines but not many. He was also _huge_.

Not just tall but broad and muscular. Beth had never seen such a body before, not ever, not even in her biology and anatomy classes and they didn't hide anything at all. Regardless of whether she found that attractive or weird, she couldn't honestly decide, he was _scary_. She could understand now his strength at kicking the tables and things, and for a brief second imagined it being herself or one of her friends. Suddenly she couldn't breathe through her fear. He wore a face mask, but his long dreads wiped and hung down his back. His chest was covered only up by the shoulders and upper pectorals by plate metal; the same as his back and along his middle was a webbing of some kind. His lower legs and forearms were armored; one of them even sported really long twin blades that looked sharp.

How in the world were they supposed to deal with _this_? Meg had said that they didn't hurt kids, that they had honor and followed a code. Seeing this guy though, Beth was apprehensive. He continued to rage, stalking in a wide circle around the dead Xeno, kicking out at tables and chairs and roaring at nothing that she could see. Occasionally he'd stumble, almost losing his balance while fiddling with something on his other forearm. The more Beth watched him the more she felt... sorry. He seemed totally out of it, confused, lost and mad because of it. But why?

"Woods!"

Beth startled and put a hand down to keep her balance, glancing back at the tables.

"Woods, you alright?"

_Elizabeth. _"Yeah," Beth called back, her voice tight from the cold. "Yeah, I'm fine. Are you okay?"

"Fine!" Liz called back, but from where Beth couldn't quite tell. The guy heard them though, spinning around and jerking his head from the tables to Beth's area, so she sucked in a breath and held perfectly still, watching him warily.

"Can you signal Meg?"

Beth glanced up to the left, slightly behind her to the dome covered camera in the corner and its blinking red light. "I dunno!" She admitted, trying to look between the guy and the camera's angle. She was out of view right now which meant that she'd need to venture closer to _him_. The idea made her bladder throb. "Maybe, why?"

"She needs to cut the water," Liz shouted, "or change the temp; we'll die if she doesn't."

"Yeah," Beth called back, keeping one eye on the guy and the other on the tables, trying hard to guess where Liz was. "Yeah I get that. I'm so cold I can't feel a thing!"

"You're out in the open, we're not!" Liz replied, and there was a measure of pride in her tone that Beth took heart in. "Can you still move?"

Beth didn't know. She'd been crouched for a couple minutes now and everything hurt. Her bones, her joints. Experimentally, she flexed her shoulders and neck, cringing a bit at the tightness and pull. "I... I think so, yeah!"

"You need to signal Meg, there's no other way!"

"He'll see me!" Beth charged, getting her numb feet more underneath her with both hands on the ground. "I have to get closer to him to get in cam range, what then?"

"We'll distract him," Liz answered after a pause, to maybe confer with those around her. "We'll cover you!"

"Liz...," Beth called out, a slight apprehension in her voice as she noticed the guy spin around again, staring in her general location as he took a step or two forward, steam rising off his body. He hadn't been on fire, not like the Xeno but he was steaming anyway. Beth blanked out for a moment, before realizing that his temperature must be high, despite the water.

"Just do it, Woods! Trust me!"

Beth didn't answer, her teeth chattering uncontrollably now she kept staring at the guy as he seemed to breath heavily in place, maybe twenty or thirty feet away. He was silent, almost like he was listening. He even tilted his head to the side, clenching his hands and releasing them, drawing Beth's attention to the claws at the tips. Could she do this?

"Woods? Woods!"

"Yeah, alright?!" Beth yelled back, slightly angry now. "He can see me, Liz!"

"No he can't," Liz shot back, like she didn't have a care or worry in the world. "Trust me on this, we need Meg!"

"I know!" Beth screamed, hating the entire situation, especially when the new volume to her voice caused him to take another step or two in her direction. Glancing quickly at the camera dome, she couldn't see clearly enough but she didn't think it had moved from its position focused in on the Xenon body, which meant that it couldn't see _him _or her, or anything else. It was odd enough that she had to signal Meg before with the fire. Meg must be really busy.

"Gorman and I have your back, Woods. You need to do this, you're the closest one. It'll be alright."

Beth bit down hard on her lower lip to keep from arguing. She was trapped between a... well a metal wall and a brick shithouse. She knew Liz was right, but Liz wasn't the one sticking her neck out here! Then again, Liz had endangered herself with the Xeno and she was still alive. Maybe... just maybe.

"We're counting on you, Woods, you're the best."

Beth closed her eyes and exhaled shakily, flexing her fingers and toes despite the numbness. They felt fat like sausages but still moveable, barely. Her knees knocked together as she shifted, getting ready to stand up.

"The best at what?"

"At keeping your cool, at doing what needs to be done. Think of the little ones, Woods! There are little ones in here with us and they're colder than we are. You can do this!"

"I can do this," Beth murmured to herself like a mantra, over and over as she struggled to breathe through the violent shivers and spear like shafts of fearful pain that kept shooting up her spine. "I can do this..."

What was the worst that could happen? She froze to death? Glancing to the right and down, she caught sight of a large heli-steel bolt that was jumbled from the falling water, twitching side to side as it struggled to balance as much as she was. It was long, about the length of her palm and broken off at the end forming a deadly angular tip. Reaching out for it with a numb hand, she curled her fingers around it and drew it close, turning it tip side up as she gripped the base. The hold was awkward, weak, so she put the shaft between her index and middle fingers and thumbed the bolt shaped base. Better.

"I can do this," she murmured again, fisting her prize and slowly pushing to her feet, feeling the aching stretch of muscle and more of the cold as she shuddered and gasped, licking the water from her numb lips and focusing on _him. _

"That a girl, Woods. You can do this. Signal Meg."

"Alright!" Beth called back in the affirmative, now fully on her feet. Watching him closely, she took a deep breath that was mostly shallow due to the constriction of her chest from the cold and took the first tentative, water logged step forward.

Bak'ub instantly growled out loud and tensed. Having abandoned his fight with the electrical system, instead he'd focused more on venting his anger before any of the pups had come into play. He hated to admit it, but he was blind and deaf without some word from them and it got the better of him, causing him to lash out and kick the furniture.

It was pup behavior, beneath him, but he'd rather take his frustrations out on objects than pups. They might be Ooman but they were still pups, and he was under Code and orders not to hurt them. Leave it to his species technological roadblock when it came to electrical systems and water, but that only fueled his temper more. His society was light years ahead of these stupid Ooman's and still water posed them a major problem that they couldn't seem to solve. Mourning the loss of his cloak, knowing that it left him visible while they were invisible, his mandibles wouldn't stop their nervous twitching.

He'd finally calmed them enough to stop the cycling of his vision, but still they tensed, jerked and ached something awful, like he'd suffered a punch in a _kehrite_. He could feel their eyes on him like physical touches, but he had no idea where they were. It was insufferable to him, annoying, angering and still his blood simmered. At least he had power enough to keep his environmental mesh intact, keeping him warm from the chill of the water that refused to stop falling. If that had failed, he had no doubt that he'd be at the mercy of these pathetic Ooman's. Crippled, lethargic and without energy he would've slumped to the floor and lain there, vulnerable and helpless as his body slipped into hibernation.

His kind couldn't tolerate cold; they never could, not without artificial means. On Prime, they'd experienced several thousand years of heat but like all planets they were always at risk for an ice age despite their twin suns. The last time an ice age hit, the planet wasn't coated with ice, but frost, rendering many species dead and others inert, like their own. Their bodies were built to power down, to conserve and reserve what energy remained into hibernation. It was before they'd developed mesh environmental suits, and they'd suffered for it, developing their own bottleneck in population, same as the Ooman's.

Thirty thousand Yauts' were the ancestor's of today's breed, including his own, all thanks to their minor sun, _Kj'altya_. A small sun it was half the size of the Ooman one and twice as old. Burning through its fuel at a rapid rate, it would dim and trigger the ice age until the _Yt'aluja _asteroid belt would circle around again after ages and pummel that sun mercilessly, refueling and strengthening it to full force that would see to the warm up and heat wave, the end of the ice age.

After that, the Yaut's had sought out colonization on other planets besides their Prime, their primordial birthing ground. There were now three other Prime's in the same solar system, and life was still conflicted. That led to Clanships, Hunt planets and the like, anything to better sustain their life cycles. Never again would they all be at mercy of their weaker sun. They'd spread out, populate, dominate. Hibernation was a thing of the past, yet it was still hard wired into their systems, ready to use yet never taken advantage of. The average Yaut lifespan was normally six hundred years, three hundred in Ooman time yet if they'd just hibernate it could be doubled, perhaps tripled. His society rejected the idea countless times.

All of this flashed in Bak'ub's mind as he triggered his audio filter, keying in on where the pups where in the room by their heartbeat. The cold water slowed it, but with a push in volume in his mask he could hear them plainly, could tell where they were, including this lone female just ahead of him as he continued to stare and try to calm down. He couldn't see her, not on any filter he had available besides audio, yet with his translation still on he picked on the conversation between the female and another, off to his left, hidden amongst the tables and debris.

Jacking his volume up as high as it would go, he suffered the wooshing rush of the water first off but it allowed him to track the lone female better as she stepped, one foot at a time, closer to him. Still he couldn't see her. After several cycles through his filters, he left off on heat seeking that blanketed the landscape in blues. If something was prone he couldn't see it, but if it was in motion, he could, if he paid close enough attention. Zeroing in on the pup, he watched her advance, as if out of the cold metal wall behind her he registered little things. A line here, a curve there.

Slowly she advanced, heading towards him one step at a time. It was the same female he'd noted before, signaling the camera dome in the corner. She was small, slight but muscled. He could see her hands fisted at her sides but couldn't determine if they held a weapon, so he remained on guard, standing where and as he was, ready. When she was about half the distance, he tensed and growled low in his throat, letting his dreads rise and posturing a bit.

Beth stopped immediately, even ceased to breathe as she stared at the guy across from her. Tightening her hand on the bolt she held, she sized him up. He was at least eight feet and three hundred pounds. Body tense, she bent her knees a bit in case she had to move quickly yet that action didn't seem to bother him so she hesitantly took another step, then two.

The way his head tilted and angled by slight degrees, Beth wasn't totally sure that he could see her, not like she could see him. Maybe he was at a disadvantage? If so that gave her the upper hand but didn't mean he was any less dangerous. He might even be more so, if he couldn't see clearly. On her next step, he roared and postured, stepped forward with a leg until less then twelve feet separated them and she froze again, breathing heavily.

Glancing over her shoulder, she was still a few feet out of camera range and cringed inside. She needed to get closer but she was running out of strength. She was so cold, her breath puffing in front of her while her skin was numb and her body was tight, even her thinking was effected as she actually considered striding the last few steps to get the job done.

"Woods!" Liz's voice came again, strident but questioning.

Watching the guy tense and hold his position with his twin blades still out, she swallowed and shuddered, struggling to keep her chattering teeth under control as the wetness continued to pour down. "He's not moving!"

"He's challenging you!" Holly yelled from the same direction as Liz, her high pitched voice soothing somehow. "He might know you're coming towards him but he doesn't like it. Be tough!"

_Tough, right. I'm five foot and he's over eight. _Beth's insides cramped painfully as she locked in place, staring the guy down. Readjusting her hold on the large bolt in her hand, she licked the water from her lips. "He's huge!"

"I know," Holly yelled helplessly, obviously watching the scene unfold from under one of the many tables. "But you need to be strong, challenge him! He won't hurt you, I swear, no matter how mad he is!"

"You don't know that!" Beth broke, her voice catching as she took another hesitant step and then another, watching as the guy took one more towards her, lifting his twin bladed arm up a bit.

"He won't hurt you." Liz backed up Holly, determination in her voice despite the water spray muting it slightly, distorting it. "Go on, signal to Meg. If he ties anything, we'll distract him."

"He's fast...," Beth hedged, acknowledged as she stared at him, close enough now that she could see the planes and angles of his musculature, his nipples even, hard and bared to the wan light as he breathed.

Bak'ub watched the little Ooman dispassionately, flexing his forearms, making the twin blades grind in their housing as it thought he struggled to extend them further than their capacity. His legs firmly braced with bent knees and his arms wide, he stared through the impersonal mask of his visor at the little Ooman. She was so close now that if he struck out his blades would surely catch her yet it was an internal battle to keep himself still. He longed for action, to move. The bravado of the other pups in the room weren't helping things either since he could understand them.

They were hyping the pup up in front of him, giving her courage by proclaiming that he wouldn't hurt her. Directed by his Code, that much was true but it still grated on his nerves to hear it from the mouths of _Oomans'_. Pups or not, if they held strong to that silly belief into adulthood many of them would find themselves on someone's trophy wall. Dismissing that line of thought as futuristic and thus not useful to him now, instead he pondered their other words. _We'll distract him._

His mind spun with possibilities as to how they'd do that. The others knew he couldn't see them while the pup before him didn't seem too convinced as of yet. He could work with that and a small vindictive part of his soul rejoiced. Let the others _distract_ him, let them try. With the water still raining over head it wasn't like they could somehow set _him _on fire as they had the hard meat. Jerking his gaze partially in that direction, the body was exactly where he'd last seen it.

Vaguely he wondered why he bothered to check but then remembered the reaction of the Ooman's when he'd swooped in to deliver the kill shot. Surprise, dismay and _anger_. They might still think it's their kill, their trophy. They had put in the time and effort so they might decide to steal it. Rumbling in his throat, he wondered why they hadn't tried. His attention had mostly been on this lone female who approached so they could have snuck in and taken advantage of his various distractions to drag it off with them under the tables. Did they understand perhaps that when someone delivered the kill shot, the trophy was theirs regardless of the struggle with others before hand?

If they did, then they were even smarter then he was as a pup because he would've stolen the body right out from under the victor's nose and laughed about it inside. To him, you never took your attention away from your prize until it was secured. He should've immediately crouched down to take his trophy when the waterfall began. He didn't. His mandibles fluttered.

"Beth, just do it!" Liz hissed from across the room, impatient. "He's not watching you, go!"

"Come on Beth, we're cold!" Holly chimed in, unable to keep the faint whine from her voice.

Beth stayed where she was, ignoring her classmates. The cold was so biting it was a physical pain now from her head to her toes, even her hair seemed to hurt. Her breathing was erratic, shallow little gasps and it was a real struggle to keep her eyes open. Even now she caught them wanting to close, feeling like lead weights as she'd jerk back to attention and sway on her feet. Sheer adrenaline was keeping her upright and conscious because she had to be hypothermic by now.

Blinking hard several times, she forced herself to focus and look up through the rain. Sure enough, Liz was right. The guy's head was turned away from her, looking over at the hard meat. Steam continued to rise from his body, especially his head and the tops of his shoulders. He had to be so warm. Beth whimpered before she could stop it.

"Beth, snap out of it! You need to signal Meg, now! You don't have time!" Liz again, more frantic than ever.

"Do it Beth, please!" Holly followed up, ever the faithful sidekick.

"...'M ss-s-so c-c-cold." Beth whispered, bowing her drenched head and trying to suck in more air.

"Beth, signal Meg right now! That's a direct order, do it!" Liz was shouting, apparently tussling with Holly or others as some table legs squealed across the ground and voices rose and fell in distorted heated debate.

Shuddering out the biggest breath she'd been able to take in awhile, Beth repeatedly bit the sides of her tongue, unable to stop her chattering teeth or keep them locked together in a grind. How much time had passed since the sprinklers? Five minutes? Ten? Instinct screamed at Beth to get a move on it, that if she didn't she'd eventually lose all strength and collapse to the ground, slipping into a sleep that she probably would never wake up from.

Stationed on a planet without an atmosphere yet, they'd all been drilled in their weekly Emergency Safety and Evacuation classes about hypothermia in the event that the core of the complex was shut down to avoid critical mass. They each had suits in their room to pull on and cryo-bags to crawl into. They had chemi-thermal warmers to wrap around their necks, to pack under their armpits and inner thighs. It was almost funny to think that she could still die of cold, here and now.

"Beth, that's an order! Move your ass or I'm coming out there to get you! ...get off me, Holly, she's dying out there!" Liz seemed to be coming apart from the sidelines, tables banging, legs squealing and more shouting over the rain.

Bak'ub hadn't moved a muscle, still gazing at the hard meat body but not really seeing it anymore. Not like he could through this particular filter but flicking to the next he could still detect the purple pulsing inside its skull. Even after death a hard meat was lethal if you weren't careful dismembering it, its acidic blood not the only risk. No, he puzzled the odd thoughts swirling inside his head. Why hadn't they stolen the body? Did they know the Code? If so, were they honoring it? The mere idea helped to drain away some more of his anger and unease. They hadn't even mentioned it in their Ooman speak.

Maybe they were simply afraid to make a grab for it because they _could _see him. That idea made him puff out his chest and snort softly with pride. They should fear him. He was the predator here, the dominant species in the room. Yet at the same time, he felt disappointed. The pups could set a hard meat on fire, coordinate their attack and beat it down yet they couldn't summon the courage to steal back the body or challenge him for it openly? Pathetic, weak Oomans'. He was angry again.

Those hiding beyond his vision, further away were weak and pathetic. They'd be the easiest to scare off, he thought smugly. His inner vindictive streak rejoiced again, feeling the unusual truth of it deep in his bones. But the little pup who had been separated from her pack, the one closest to him who had bravely kept stepping forward? That one had pride. Honor. Through his peripheral vision, he hadn't detected any movement from her in some time. No lines or curves moved, yet he knew she'd spoken something that he hadn't paid attention to just now.

Growling low, he considered the situation as his mandibles continued their compulsive tapping against each other. She'd come this far only to stop now? Turning back to her, his dreads whipping off water, he tilted his head and kept up the growl. He still had no idea if she held a weapon but she was just standing there, apparently. If she did have a weapon and came at him, could he trust himself to disarm her without hurting her? He felt uneasy again. He wasn't known for his calm or his patience. He acted with anger, striking before thinking. While it often won him challenges from and against Young Bloods, those of his own rank or higher wiped the floor with him. His anger would be the death of him, many said.

In this case, his anger might be the death of a pup. He couldn't honestly say with certainty how he'd react if attacked. He was virtually blind from the cold, still slightly off kilter from the rapid cycling of his vision and the shocks of the cloak seemed like the death blow for finding peace and balance. Bak'ub was tense, locked up, vibrating slightly with barely leashed energy.

"Beth!" Liz shouted again, more panicked this time. "Beth, you have five seconds before I come out there. Five!"

As if through a thick mental fog, Beth kept breathing in rasps and watched as the guys head turned to her again. She studied his mask and the green lens' of his visors. Maybe the colored dots and blotches of his skin were really green. Maybe he chose green in his mask to settle any confusion on if it was green, or blue. She'd prefer it if he had both. That would be cool. Pretty even, guy or not. He was still steaming. Half of what kept Beth's feet glued to the floor was fear. They were so close now, he could touch her if he wanted to, hurt her. Kill her. The other half was her growing desire to finish closing that distance, to press right up against him and see if he felt as warm as she suspected he was, to steam like that.

"Four!"

Holding his gaze in the place where he assumed the pup was, he leaned in slightly with his upper body. Unable to see her, he could detect her heartbeat and what he heard gave him pause. The beat was slow, slower than an Ooman's should be and sluggish as if it was working harder than it should. Tapping a mask control to hold the audio sensor's focus, he tapped another through his vision scans to access x-ray. With his target locked his eyes lit up as the scan appeared, showing her outline through muscle and bone and beyond, depending on how he zoomed in or out.

"Three!"

The Ooman was distressed. With the falling water he couldn't smell her, but his scan showed it clearly in the knotting tenseness of her muscles, her laboring lungs now half their size, her heart fluttering and almost murmuring in its struggle to keep pace when it physically couldn't. Her form was vibrating before his eyes. Her head was up, looking at him he guessed and her Ooman herbivore like teeth were chattering. Her arms were crossed in front of her chest, an attempt to conserve whatever heat remained in her small body and her legs looked ready to buckle.

"Two!"

The Ooman was cold. She was freezing to death. Unlike his kind, Ooman's didn't hibernate. They simply dropped where they stood and died. Bak'ub growled again, louder than before as he fisted his hands. The pup wasn't scared of him, not like before. She was simply too cold to function properly. Taking another step forward, then another, the pup didn't move yet her chin came up to follow his advance, to keep her vision on his head he guessed.

"Beth!" Holly cried in warning.

Jerking in a gasp, Beth kept watching the guy as he came at her. In slow motion or full speed she couldn't tell, but she was too cold to really explore the ramifications either way. The bolt in her hand was long forgotten yet still held, her fingers numbly frozen in place around it as she shuddered and struggled to keep her feet under her, knees wanting to buckle. Everything was so surreal now. The shouts of her friends seemed to come at her from miles away, muffled and echoing. She no longer felt the rain on her body, the cold and constant pounding of the drops having deadened her skin.

Bak'ub glanced at the crowded tables where the Ooman pups hid, knowing that one of them would be charging him soon if they didn't back out in dishonor. Then again, they'd issued a direct order to the pup before him. If she didn't perform it and they came out to aid her that in itself would be dishonor on their part. Challenged, it was up the freezing pup to do or die. Since he had the benefit of his environmental mesh, his vindictive side was muzzled and subdued as he growled at the cold pup pointedly then looked up and beyond her, to the camera dome in the corner.

Beth blinked to keep the water out of her eyes as she watched the guy, close enough now to feel a faint teasing waft of warmth from his body. Or maybe it was her own delirium that made her skin ripple, sensing heat. Maybe she was so cold she was starting to feel warm again. If that was the case, she was set to drop at any second. Beth knew she should be worried about that, fighting against it, but she didn't bother. Energy gone, she swayed in place.

"One!"

Bak'ub looked back at the pup, _Beth,_ they kept calling her. Making a point to look at her and continue to growl, he jerked his gaze this time to the dome in the corner, then back to her. Then to the dome. Over and over he set a pattern with his moving head, until Beth eventually followed him and looked at the dome herself.

"Beth, move your ass!" Liz yelled, bursting from her hiding place among the tables to the side. Her feet slapping the wet floor with sprays of puddle water in her wake, the taller and slightly older pup charged the two of them. Holly was hot on her heels, a bit shorter than Liz she pounded behind her just a step or two late as both rushed towards Beth.

Slowly catching on to the guys meaning, Beth kept blinking as she dipped her chin and shook her head, bringing her hands up to her eyes to try and physically catch hold of thoughts that wanted to elude her. Memories. Orders. Things she should be doing. Staggering a step or two aside, she was suddenly caught up by her forearms. The searing heat of the huge palms made Beth cry out in bliss and her knees finally buckled. The hold on her increased, keeping her elevated as the tips of her water logged shoes dragged on the ground as she was brought closer. Waves of heat coasted over her wet clothes, her bare slippery skin. Real or imagined, Beth shuddered hard and kicked out with her legs, desperate to get her feet under her, to launch herself at the heat source that she thought might be there.

A bolt gun like cracking sound rent the air along with an angry war cry as a plexi-wood chair smashed into Bak'ub's back plate armor. Roaring instinctively, he shoved the freezing pup away from him with a slight twist, turning her towards the dome in the corner before spinning to meet his attacker head on. With his target out of focus for the x-ray scan, he cycled quickly through his filters to catch a faint movement, an arc in the air, four of them. Guessing them to be chair legs, he lashed out quickly with his twin blades. Catching the chair sideways as it swung at him, it broke apart and flung from the pups hands.

"Beth, damnit, signal Meg!" Liz shouted as the chair was ripped from her hands by the Yaut's attack. Slowly but methodically she backed away, out of his strike range while waving her arms out at her sides, up over her head and down again to keep his attention on her. "Don't worry about him, signal Meg!"

A chorus started up from the tables to the side, chants and cheers rose above the falling water.

Another chair slammed into his back which was facing Beth. Holly didn't yell with her swing but she didn't wait around for him to destroy her weapon like he had Liz's either. Once the chair bounced off of him, she swung its weight to follow the rebound as he spun to strike out at what had hit him. His blades caught something with their tips.

Beth screamed as fire tore across her back, the numb skin giving way to the blades as they drove below the outer layers to draw blood. Red wetness sprayed through the air as she arched, her back bowing while she stumbled, feet tripping under her and sending her to knees harshly against the metal ground with a banging thud and skid. Her blouse was torn, from her upper right shoulder to her lower left hip in two gashes in flesh and fabric.

Holly twisted, following the rebound immediately when he'd spun to catch the chair again against his back plate as hard as she possibly could. Struggling to keep her fingers tight on the chair back, she shouted out as the reverberation rocketed up her arms. Bak'ub roared a second time, twisting back with amazing speed to knock the chair away from with a hard sweep of his bladed arm. Holly caught the chairs new momentum right in the face and chest, falling back to hit the ground hard and slide as she groaned, blood flowing from her nose and split lower lip.

"Beth!" Liz screamed, her wet head swiveling between Holly now on the ground, the Yaut and Beth on her hands and knees across from her. "Beth, are you alright? Get up, please get up!"

Bak'ub swiveled to hone in on the sound of Liz. His anger was half way to unleashed, having been unprepared for the attack at his back when he'd merely been catching a pup as she fell. He'd done nothing wrong! Charging a few steps, he let his roar die off into a growl of challenge and annoyance as he postured, throwing his head back with a spray of water off his dreads with his arms spread and his feet wide, slowly circling the Liz pup around the fallen body of Holly.

Liz was pissed. Despite the freezing cold of the water, her blood was boiling in her veins and her head felt swollen as she postured right back at the Yaut. At eighteen years old, she was one of the oldest in the cafeteria, one of the most experienced and studied as she rolled her lips in a snarl and circled with the male. Holly was fifteen and Beth was thirteen but in comparison to ages, they hadn't the experience with the simulators yet that she'd had.

"You think you're such a hot shit?" Liz spat at the Yaut, still circling with him.

Bak'ub growled continuously now, flexing his muscles as much as possible to intimidate.

"If Beth wasn't half dead, she could wipe the floor with your ass."

While Holly continued to groan in between them, the chair pushed off her and to the side as she cupped her busted face, Beth struggled to regain her feet. The freezing water pounding on her injuries quickly helped to stem the bleeding and numb the pain but it was still there if she focused on it. Choosing not to though it had woken her up to her surroundings, she pushed unsteadily to her feet. Falling a couple times, she finally made it to a stand.

Bak'ub's gaze was distracted. As angry as he was, he knew he'd hurt two pups. Holly was the easiest to see, since the water hadn't chilled the heat signature of her blood yet. It ran freely from her face, and his gut clenched. It might have been the chair coming back at her, but it was still his fault. Liz came at him again then, picking up Holly's chair and swinging it up in an arc, coming at his head. Barely catching the blur of faint blue moving lines, Bak'ub jerked back, feeling the grating of the chairs legs scrape down his chest plate before Liz had twisted again, swinging in another strike to his hips and upper thighs.

Unable to dodge it fully, he took the hard crack and roared, instinct making his bladed arm swing out in a strike against the pup. Ducking his twin blades, she finally erupted in another yell of her own as she pulled the chair away and swung at him again, at his head for the second time since he was slightly bent over. Connecting, the impact radiated up her arms and through her spine but she held on tightly, righteous indignation fueling her as she ripped the chair away and twisted yet again for another blow as fast as she could.

Beth managed to keep her feet, blocking out the chaos going on behind her she staggered and shuffled around, finally in front of the camera. Struggling, she flailed her numb arms from her sides to over her head again, the bolt falling to the ground and bouncing with a metal on metal plunking clang as it rolled away. "Meg!" Beth called, breathless and weak. Keeping up her flail, she kept calling just in case she audio was on. "Meg! Meg!"

The crash on his head caused another roar, this time of real pain. Straightening up immediately after, he managed to block the next chair strike from Liz with his forearm, blades still extended he swept the chair aside and rounded back, swiping at her vulnerable middle with his blades but she managed to dance back.

"You hurt Beth!" Holly screamed out of no where, pivoting up onto her knees in a forward slide, blood still running from her face as she dropped onto her side, kicking out both lower legs to catch the Yaut behind his knees.

Bak'ub staggered forward, failing to fall but it brought him within strike distance of Liz and the pup wasted no time. Yelling her own war cry again, the chair still in rebound she crashed it hard with the heli-steel legs against the side of his head. His skull exploded in pain, not nearly as much as he was used to from a Yaut weapon or punch but enough that he finally staggered to his knees, swiping out again rapidly at Liz's body. Catching his blades along her lower side, hip and upper thigh, she cried out but kept her spin to bring the chair down again quickly onto the top of his head.

"Meg! Meeeeg!" Beth screamed her voice so tight and hoarse she didn't know if the audio was picking up over the fight behind her. She didn't dare turn around to look at what was going on. Unsure of what she'd find, she couldn't risk it. Forcing her legs, twin dead weights, to jump slightly in place she kept flailing her arms and yelling at the camera. Tears tracked down her ashen mocha face as guilt ate at her insides. If she'd only done this sooner. If only.

Slightly dazed, Bak'ub staggered back from the chair blow to the head. His senses reeling, he almost couldn't believe that an Ooman pup could hit so hard but he didn't have time to fully ponder or appreciate it. His blades had hit flesh and he exalted in it, catching wind of Holly's attempt to again sweep out his legs, he jumped over them and punted her in the side with his sandal covered foot. The pup cried out at the impact, her body folding around his connecting foot as she slid several feet along the wet floor before rolling to her back then to her opposite side, holding her middle.

Liz took a risk. Dropping the chair when his leg went up, she rushed at the Yaut. Knowing he was balanced on one foot, she bent down and caught him around his hips with her arms, charging him backwards with her left leg hooking behind his supporting knee to drop him fully to the ground in a huge thud and slight slide. Crashing down on top of his torso, she burst out a breath before scrambling, feeling him on the move. Catching hold of his bladed wrist in both hands she lunged with her feet, barely getting purchase, trying to cast her full weight against his weapon arm.

"Meg!" Beth cried out again, staggering and fighting through the cold. Anxiety, helplessness, fear and weakness laced her tone as she kept flailing, stretching out her arms until finally the red light of the camera blazed a bit brighter and the mechanical whirl of repositioning fell on her. "Meg, here, here! Look!" Her lungs burning, Beth turned and started to frantically point as best she could in the direction of the fight. After a moment, the camera whirred again and angled up to take in Holly on the ground, Liz on top of the Yaut and the struggle in general.

All of a sudden, the water temperature dropped even more than before. The temperature was now absolutely freezing, and Meg shuddered and cried out, gripping onto herself. "No, no!"

Liz panted harshly, leaning her full weight on the Yaut's bladed arm as he struggled. She had no doubts that he wasn't using full strength but with each thrashing attempt, he grew closer to it. Shifting her weight, she slammed her left knee into his lower abs, just above his loincloth as hard as she could, then a second time as her hands regripped and her weight fell forward again to try and keep him pinned down. "You hurt Beth, you bastard! You Bad Blood!"

Bak'ub roared again, his body bowing in at the connect of the pups knee. She hit hard for an Ooman, for a pup, and his muscles tensed even as he kept fighting. He was prideful in drawing blood three times against his attackers, knowing full well he could kill them if he chose but he didn't. They were pups. They were protecting a Hunt Sister, and drawing blood three times brought him great shame at the same time. But he was already in his fight. Blood was spilled, his dishonor couldn't be further mired so he struck out with his free hand, grabbing at Liz's throat and squeezing hard as he pushed her body up from his own, holding her suspended and freeing his bladed arm.

"Meg!" Beth called again, hoarser this time as the even colder water sapped what remained of her strength. Staggering backwards to follow the camera angle, she tripped over Bak'ub's free arm and fell down with a short, surprised cry. The side of her head knocking against his hip, his arm under her knees she groaned and shuddered, feeling the intense warmth radiating from him. Her ripped open back pressing to the ground didn't bother her so much, she couldn't feel it.

Liz meanwhile ground out resistant noises as best she could with an aliens hand at her throat, squeezing. Feeling more and more light headed, she again drew back her knee to drive it once, twice, three times into his lower abs before she jammed the kneecap in instead, shifting her weight to press down as she gripped his wrist with one hand, the other jammed to his own throat. Armored though it was, her hand was small enough to wedge up under his chin and squeeze bare flesh. "Bad Blood," she rasped out, eyes blazing. "You hurt Beth!"

The camera whirred in its housing, focusing now on the clustered scene of tangled bodies. Beth sprawled over the Yaut's one side, Liz atop him hand in hand in a throat lock, Holly's lower legs off to the side. The red active light blinked slowly off and on in Beth's blurry, failing vision as the colder water shut her down. "Meg... stop... stop..."

Crawling slowly, Holly shuddered in the new cold as she made her way back to the scene. Huffing and puffing, her face still bloody and a mask of pain she met Beth's half dead eyes as the zero degree water continued to bath them all. The Yaut steamed even more than usual as Liz kept fighting, her own body starting to tremble and fade in their battle of wills.

"L-Liz...," Beth stammered, keeping her eyes closed now since she was on her back, keeping the water from her eyes she lifted a numb, heavy arm just barely to bump against her friend's side, sliding down to her hip and off her thigh before dropping back to the ground above her head. "Let it go, L-Liz. Let it g-go."

"S'She's r-right, Liz," Holly stammered, just as cold as the rest of them under the onslaught of freshly piped, unheated ground water from beneath the planet. "L'let it go."

"He hurt you," Liz ground out through clenched teeth, battling not to chatter, the Yaut's grip still firm on her throat as was hers on his. Staring point blank into his visor, she put on a brutal face and hissed. "Hurt you."

"Our f-fault," Holly croaked out, rolling to her front. "At-attacked f-first."

Bak'ub remained as he was, on his back with his hand locked around Liz's throat, feeling her pulse and squeezing off and on. His growl was intense, rumbling low in his throat as the water continued to rush down, now even colder than ever before. His environmental mesh even struggled against this. It had to be about zero degrees; how it wasn't already frozen he didn't know and didn't care. His own body was now feeling the effects as his metabolism slowed down, along with his anger and shame. He'd hurt three pups. Pups. Ooman, but pups. _Ooh Paya. _

"M-M-Meg," Beth called out, her voice so tight it was barely a squeak. "S-s-stop." Making a shaky cutting motion with her hand at her throat, she kept doing that, over and over, sometimes pointing up at the sprinklers before her hand dropped, numb and exhausted to her side. God she was so cold. She couldn't hold her thoughts together, she was confused, lost. Trembling violently against the Yaut's side, she kept struggling to breathe and to stay awake. "S-stop."

The camera whirred again, zooming in on the picture. Getting close and backing out for a wider shot, the camera light blinked rapid a few times before the water finally shut off. The hoses and pipes groaned overhead, pressure cut off, as the shower heads squeaked and continued to drip with the build up in their attachments. Silence filled the air.

Drips and drops fell from the sprinklers, making faint noises all around them but otherwise no one said a thing. The lights remained off as the vacuum drains continued to suck down the build up along the floor. Weak, uncaring and tempted beyond belief, Beth rolled her body against the Yauts. Her face lifted, cheek pressing against his hip as she reached across his body with her top arm, her legs curling under his armpit she hugged in tight to him with painful, wracking shudders.

Holly was next, crawling to drape herself over Beth's lower legs and across that side of his chest, her arms curling into herself as she cuddled up, whimpering, and ignoring her bloody face for now.

Bak'ub kept still as the water shut off. The pup had done it. She'd obeyed her command and gotten the attention of the camera. That slight balm calmed his tormented conscience. Laying there, staring into the hold out pup's blazing eyes he bit back the whine that threatened in his throat. Her words were accurate. He'd hurt them, all three. Pups. Maybe the cold was influencing more than just his body because even his brain throbbed in his skull, a dull pounding at his temples that had nothing to do with anything but his fall from grace. His shame, his dishonor. _Bad Blood._

Flexing the forearm that was outstretched still on the ground, his twin blades retracted neatly to half length then fully closed with metallic scrapes and locking _snicks. _None of the pups moved at the noise. Two were cuddling against him, their small and frailer bodies shivering to warm up yet his arm stayed immobile where it lay. He dare not embrace them. Briefly he wondered where the urge to, faint though it was, had even come from but it wasn't worth it. Not anymore.

He let out a shuddering sigh, the raging pups grip on his upper throat not allowing a smooth exhale but he didn't deserve one. Releasing her slender throat completely, slowly, he forced himself to submit. Unlike most Bad Bloods, he didn't bother to continue to fight or feel liberated from the vast and consuming restrictions of the Code. He didn't finish what he'd started by killing the pups, nor did he have the desire to shove them away and finally claim his hard meat trophy. There was no itch in his legs to run. He was competent in piloting their ship but even thinking about the battle to beat and over come their navigator and medic who were still on board held no appeal.

Bak'ub had no doubt that they'd challenge him fully, fighting to the death to alert the rest of the team still in the complex while trying to kill him or hold him off long enough for their Elder to come and take custody of him. They wouldn't understand his mad dash to be off the planet or his coup to take over control from the Elder by telling them what to do and battling them when they refused him. It was an easy assumption to make that he'd turned Bad Blood, if he'd act in such a way but they wouldn't know the horror of his dishonor. Maybe they'd assume he'd finally had it out with that pauk'de, Ker'ak'de, or that he'd somehow sabotaged the Twins for being bad omens. Or simply shoved Guan'Thwei, the teams last Young Blood, into the complex's nuclear reactor for cjit and chortles. Their minds would jump to those things first. Never hurting _pups._

Letting his arm, now free of the angry pup above him, fall to his chest he simply stayed where he was.

Liz was instantly suspicious of the Yaut's capitulation. She might be freezing cold, shivering and struggling to control her anger with a rewrap on his throat but she wasn't stupid. This one was up to something. He had to be. From the moment he exposed himself to their group by killing the hard meat and bellowing his victory, he'd shown himself for a snake. Sly, laying in wait like the Yaut's did until the perfect time to swoop in and claim what they wanted.

"Bad Blood," she accused with a low tone, her jaw set against the cold as she kept pressure against his throat.

Bak'ub trilled softly in admission, rather than defiance as he slowly lifted both hands to his masked face. Pulling the seals on his mask with low hissing noises, he finally palmed the metal and slowly pulled it free with a low suctioning sound. Now freed, he lowered it to his chest in both hands, resting it against himself. His mandibles now free, the lower ones still fluttering fitfully, he stretched them out a time or two, exercising them against the constraints inside his mask.

Red eyes locked on to Liz above him, deep set into his head as he sighed a breath and relaxed under her hold. His mandibles fit tight to his face rather than oversized a clear sign of a Young Blood. He was older than that.

Liz growled low, her hand still surprisingly strong against his upper throat as he revealed his face. Colored as he was in body, he was likewise on his head with black skin and splashes of faint color, a greenish blue. Tilting up his chin, he didn't fight her hold on him, merely ticking his lower tusks against each other with hooded eyes.

Whatever his fate, he'd face it fully. Be it his team Elder, this young pup, or a Bearer, he'd face it.


	10. Chapter 10

**I don't make any money from Aliens/Predator - I don't own anything except my Ooman's. Elder Thwei'dok'de with action and the last team member, number seven, Young Blood Gwan'Thwei gathering up clues and on his own wild adventure. Thank you so much to my reviewers! xx**

"So like, who were you on the phone with?" Hannah asked curiously as they strolled hand in hand again through the third security door. The first one they finally ran up against was tricky and took her longer than she thought to figure out. Meg had given her the run down on manual override procedures and it seemed easy enough to remember at the time but like all things, doing it was always harder.

Of course if she was honest with herself she simply hadn't wanted to look stupid in front of Thai. That wasn't his name, she knew that, but pronouncing what it really was seemed impossible no matter how she worked her mouth and twisted her tongue. So to Hannah, the large older male beside her was 'Thai' whether he liked it or not.

The second and third doors were easier to crack and in less time, so Hannah felt fairly confident that by the time they reached the fifth and final door she could have it open in seconds. Even though she kept darting quick glances at Thai it was hard to tell whether or not he was impressed with her skill. She really hoped so but he didn't give any clues aside from purring at her whenever she got frustrated and flustered. It wasn't that she didn't appreciate it, she did, but Hannah couldn't help hoping and wishing for more.

Thai seemed distracted though, making noises that sounded cool but not like any language she was familiar with in her studies. A couple times when her curiosity had gotten the better of her she'd voiced questions yet instead of answering her directly, she got more purrs or noises like rumbles, grumbles, and such. Maybe it wasn't polite to ask a Yautja if he was married or single or if he liked music, had brothers and sisters or any kids. The questions seemed okay enough to Hannah but then again, she couldn't imagine any of her part time teachers appreciating the third degree either.

Just thinking about questioning her betters on personal matters made her feel uneasy and squeamish. A Yautja definitely classified as a 'better' in her scientifically minded hierarchy. He hadn't answered her latest question yet which only fueled her nervousness and excitement as she unknowingly picked up the pace in their stroll to the fourth door. Thai matched her without missing a beat but he wouldn't look at her, so Hannah tugged on his hand until he looked down.

"Were you on the phone before?"

Thwei'dok'de trilled curiously while watching the pup, wondering at her words. 'Phone' didn't produce a vocabulary definition in his database, instead showing that the entry had been deleted because of obscurity some cycles before. Why did the pup use a word that was clearly out of date for her species?

Hannah slowed to a stop, finally realizing that he hadn't understood and the Elder stopped with her with his large head tilted to the side. For a moment she simply watched him as he hadn't reengaged his cloaking device and struggled to find a way to communicate.

"Um, phone… you know like, talking?" Hannah hedged, making a talking mouth like motion with her free hand.

The Elder glanced at her gesture and trilled again.

Sighing, Hannah tried to think fast and tugged away from him so she had both hands free. Holding up her left one, she kept making the chatty motion and said, "You", then holding up the right one and mimicking the motion said, "Someone else, not me."

Finally, Thwei'dok'de understood and rumbled, nodding his head slowly to confirm the pups meaning was correct. He'd been trying to reach his fellow team members, mostly successful yet half were still out of reach for various reasons. He didn't feel nervous about the lack of contact, merely all the more curious given their surroundings.

Ker'ak'de was still off line after his initial emergency call, but Med'ka and Bak'ub seemed to be holding their own. If luck held, the Elder would be in reach of Ker'ak'de before long thanks to his little Ooman tag a long.

While Thwei'dok'de didn't have a problem using his shoulder cannon on the security doors, it would undoubtedly put any pups who were housed in between them in jeopardy. The little Ooman however had a knack for opening them and allowing them to close and lock behind them as they passed, which was a much safer and logical option.

Hannah kept making the talking motions with both hands, watching Thai expectantly even after his nod. Finally he understood yet he wouldn't spill the beans. Feeling a pang of disappointment, she just sighed and gave a faint smile before giving up. If he didn't want to talk about it then so be it but at least she had been able to figure out that he hadn't come to their complex alone, there were others with him.

She'd just taken a step towards the fourth door when Thwei'dok'de reached out and gripped her small shoulder. Hannah paused and half turned, looking up at him curiously.

"Sei-i, ye-es," he rumbled. "Uh-thers, he-er."

Hannah brightened immediately, grinning wide as she watched the large male. He'd answered her! Giggling in spite of herself, wanting to seem grown and mature, she couldn't help it as she bounced up and down on her feet and took a couple steps closer.

"That's awesome Thai! How many are with you?"

"Ss-ex," the Elder rumbled, amused by the pups antics.

Right before his eyes, the pups own widened impossibly as her face slackened as she looked immediately uncomfortable, gnawing her fleshy lower lip between her teeth and shaking her head. "No, um… I think you mean, 'six'. Ss-ii-hx. Not ss-ex."

Thwei'dok'de trilled and tilted his head in the other direction, unable to make sense of the pups pronunciation. That was what he'd said, yes? Or so he thought. There was a difference?

Hannah started to blush before she could stop herself, the heat, and color spreading up her neck and into her face as she cut her gaze down to the floor where her feet scraped against the grating. "Sex is… it's… it's not a number. It's an action. It means to mate."

The Elder snorted loudly and jerked back as if struck, puffing, and tensing his body to physically try and dispute his mispronunciation.

"Six," Hannah mumbled. "You meant six. Including you, seven. Right?"

Nodding strongly, his rank rings chimed together as he growled. He knew his grasp on the human language was severely limited in being able to actually speak it without the enhancements of his mask but he never dreamed that he could butcher a word so badly that it would come across in terms of mating. It wasn't a secret that the Yautja held relaxed views on the mating act or that they taught their own pups about such things when they were much younger than Ooman standards permitted, but his awkwardness had unsettled his pup.

"That's… that's good. We need all the help we can get, honestly."

Thwei'dok'de rumbled again and held up both large hands, waving his thick fingers as he spoke. "_Kainde Amedha__?"_

_Hannah creased her brow and thought for a moment, taking in his actions and the alien tongue he spoke. _

_"__How many… aliens?"_

_"__Sei-i," the Elder nodded._

_"__Gosh, um. Meg wasn't too specific on the details so I don't really know? I can tell you what I do know, though."_

_The Elder nodded again, watching as the pup nervously tucked more of her fur behind her shell like ears and cast wary glances at the set of doors just ahead. So she was aware of the dangers, after all. Thwei'dok'de had wondered at her bold behavior. Ooman's were classed as reckless creatures, unpredictable, clever, and tricky yet often stupid. This pup was aware and the topic made her uncomfortable, and allowed her veneer of bravado and enthusiasm to slip. _

_Gripping hold of the pups shoulder again, he slowly drew her small form forward as he sank down onto one knee before her. _

_"__Huh-oo es M-eg?"_

_"__Meg is our leader," Hannah said softly before turning her head and pointing up at a camera in the shallow corner of the corridor they were in. _

_The Elder followed her direction, noticing the camera as he cycled through a few filters in his mask to clearly see. It appeared to be a round dome covering a mechanical device, a slow blinking light at the bottom indicating that it was active._

_"__I haven't met her," Hannah wavered. "Only the graduates actually get to see her face to face, I think. At least, we assume that. But she directs a lot of our classes. The first half of each class, our teacher directs us. Another human. Then they leave and Meg comes over the speaker and takes up where the human teacher left off."_

_Thwei'dok'de nodded slowly, processing the pup's words as he squeezed her shoulder supportively. They didn't have anything similar in his culture so he was at a loss, which was highly unusual for an Elder of his years. On Clanships and on Prime, all classes were overseen and directed by another Yautja face to face and long before that, a pup's Bearer had begun paving the way. To think that classes for these Ooman pups were split between reality and a loud speaker or other technology didn't seem fully comprehensive._

_"__Thai?" Hannah said softly, watching him._

_The Elder rumbled but otherwise was still lost in thought as he continued to study the pup of contradictions before him. Was that why she was torn inside? Why she was smart, resourceful, brave and cunning yet also insecure? The more he mulled it over, the more it made sense, and the less he liked this mysterious 'Meg'. _

_"__There's a lot of aliens," Hannah whispered. "But they're different."_

_Immediately, Thwei'dok'de was on alert with a low growl and another tilt of his head. His fingers tightened on Hannah and he drew her in even closer, bracketing her small body between his legs._

_Hannah took a deep breath and exhaled slowly, feeling her skin prickle with another coming sheen of sweat. The temperature in the complex was rising and before long she'd have to roll up her blouse sleeves and fan the front of her collar. That was as good a starting point as any, she figured._

_"__They like heat," she began uncertainly. "Like, a lot of it. And they… they take a long time to… to germinate. We study them in class and know a lot about them. They split us up."_

_Thwei'dok'de simply nodded but Hannah frowned and shook her head, trying to order her thoughts better. "No, not the aliens. But like, our teachers and stuff? They split us up. Some of us study the aliens while others study… you."_

_Him? They study Yautja? Tilting his head to the other side, it made a bit of sense. The lack of fear from the pups when around one of them, or at least those he'd spoken to thus far, including himself. But how? Who could be educating them to such a degree, and more importantly… why? _

_"__Anyway, these aliens aren't like the ones we've studied. They're smarter somehow. Instead of directly attacking they hang back and kinda like, I dunno, form their own plan or something but really quickly__. So if we shut them down they go to plan B without breaking a sweat."_

_The Elder cut his gaze away from the pup and suddenly around the empty corridor. His scans touched on every single vent, every single access point doorway and even the semi-secure ceiling tiles overhead before dropping down to look through the grated floor. _

_Hannah eventually looked down with him, shifting her weight from foot to foot. "Under the grate, between it and the ceiling of the level below us is an access tunnel for workmen and stuff. That's how they seem to get around. Cause like," breaking off, Hannah pulled away from him to step to his right, behind him as he twisted to follow her._

_"__This vent here," Hannah said, rubbing a palm over the filter like screen. "Is accessed right beneath it, under the grating. And then if you follow it along the corridor behind us, it runs into a panel that leads into the elevator shafts. I strung up a series of trip wires and sensors in each of them with some help but so have other levels and so far nothing has gone off, well a few of them. I can hear them trip sometimes below or above us but nothing on this level. I think… I think they're learning and picking their way around them."_

_Impossible. The Elder snorted incredulously as he finally stood and stalked to the large three foot by three foot vent that the Ooman was pointing out. Hard meats were smart, but they weren't that smart. Not unless the Queen was. Stiffening, he growled and cycled through a few filters in his mask to map the tunnel system in the walls and below the grating. His sensor filters for scent registered high. Hard meats had definitely been tracking through but it would be a tight fit for them. Nothing they couldn't manage but doing so quietly was another matter. They weighed a considerable amount. They were boney from their exoskeleton, stealth, and silence wasn't always their forte. _

_"__There's something else you need to see," Hannah said as she walked away from the vent to approach the fourth set of security doors. Each of the five check points had small rectangular windows set into each door that met in the middle with a triple lock. "Behind here are a series of classrooms for biology, anatomy, and dissection. Usually we get sent dead aliens but sometimes live ones too to watch and observe but since we got over run, before it became too much, we managed to snag one of the… the new ones."_

_Hannah popped the access panel below the control grid and set about rewiring and reprogramming. Her hands were shaking but she ignored that. She had Thai with her now. Thai would never let anything happen to her. In a mantra, she told herself that over and over again until her heart rate slowed and she breathed a little easier. She had classmates hidden in this section between doors four and five in the various classrooms just in case. It was another one of their science halls with extra security features._

_"__I should have this open really soon," she said. "I'm getting faster at it the more I do it. Okay Thai?" When Hannah didn't hear an answer, she looked back over her shoulder and froze like a deer in headlights._

_At the opposite end of the corridor, at security door three stood two fully grown adult aliens. They were at least a football field or more away but their shadowy, oil slick like bodies were unmistakable as they hissed and lifted their banana shaped heads in the air to smell and survey. Hannah started to tremble and her breath came faster as she jerked her eyes around to try and figure out where they came from. The ceiling panels were laying haphazard on the grating. They'd come from above, so quietly that she never would've known. As if to make matters worse, two more crawled cautiously out of the dark holes in the ceiling, staying above ground and upside down as they posed above their upright friends. _

_"__T-Thai?" Hannah called shakily, unable to tear her gaze away from the fearsome foursome at the other end of the hall who had yet to really move, to charge or advance. To Hannah's mind they were planning, talking, trying to device a way to victory. _

_Thwei'dok'de currently stood between Hannah and the aliens, right in the middle of the hall with a solid yet relaxed posture. Legs planted, knees slightly bent and his arms held out a bit from his sides as he breathed evenly and stared down their enemies. Hannah watched his plated back, envying his sense of calm when her own composure kept threatening to unravel into a panic. There was no where to go. _

_"__Ooh god," Hannah whimpered, turning quickly back to the access panel but in doing so her gaze whipped over the viewing windows in the doors and she froze for a second time, unable to believe what she'd seen. Her heart was in her throat, she swallowed tightly and jerkily turned back, staring right at four more alien faces through five inches of compression glass as their fogging breath condensed and obscured their shiny teeth and twitchy inner mouths. _

_"__Oh-pen duh-oor." Thwei'dok'de said. Hannah slicked her dry lips and blinked a couple times, dropping her gaze from the windows._

_"__I c-can't, Thai."_

_"__Sei-i, can."_

_"__N-no, I c-can't. There's four more on the other side."_

_Growling loud, Thwei'dok'de swung his massive head around to scan the windows. Catching sight of the four additional aliens awaiting them on the other side, he rumbled and snorted as he faced forwards again. He no sooner did than the four behind the glass erupted in shrieks, striking out at the thick glass with their inner mouths repeatedly. Hannah screamed and stumbled back into the corner near the access panel, her head swiveling so fast it was painful between them and those down the hall. _

_The four at the end finally started to stalk forward, two on the ground, the other two on the ceiling and to add insult to injury it made way for two more aliens to emerge. It reminded Hannah of a bee hive that had been stirred up despite only having one real opening to escape. _

_"__T-Thai…" Hannah whispered, darting her gaze down to the floor despite the repeated shrieks and bangs coming from the assault on the windows. Shadows slinked below her feet, through the grating. Lumbering yet slithering. She didn't dare move as her lungs burned and her skin tingled with adrenaline. God they were coming. They were flooding this corridor but why? Why now?_

_"__T-Thai…"_

_"__Hole-d duh-oor."_

_"__O...__okay but watch your feet," Hannah whispered shakily, tracking the inky shadows as they moved in various directions. "They're under the floor too. They're coming, Thai. They're coming."_

_Thwei'dok'de shook out his dreads and continued to watch the aliens down the hall. His feet never moved yet he wasn't blind to the shifting heat signatures underfoot either. His Ooman pup was right, they were coming. It was a mystery why they'd waited this long but they had. _

_"__Th-three more… behind the door." Hannah choked, catching sight of a slight power play through the glass as three more aliens rose up through the grating to charge the doors, shoving their counterparts aside to make room as the barrage on the windows continued in between snarled screams and snaps at each others necks._

_The Elder rumbled low in his throat, hearing the Ooman's words as if reported updates rather than incoherent panicked nonsense. He didn't doubt that Hannah was close but thus far she'd maintained some control of herself. Praying briefly to Paya that she could hold out, he violently flexed his forearm to fully extend his blades. No sooner had they locked in position, than he'd taken his first charging steps forward._

_Hannah watched him go with a sense of mounting panic. The swarm under foot slowly followed him yet they didn't try to pull the grating out from under him or to cut him off. They stayed a couple feet behind him and something in Hannah's gut warned her that she'd soon be cut off. If they finally did break through the floor she would be completely alone, between the doors and a wall of them. Trapped._

_Twisting suddenly, she jumped up to smash an emergency covered button just above the panel to set off the red lights and sirens. Glass cut into her palm but she barely spared a wince before tucking herself back into the corner, eyes tracking everywhere. _

_The shadows under the floor finally made noise, shrieking as they jerked upright, banging their backs and heads against the welded grate panels. Deep metallic thrums chased through the corridor, vibrating her back as she watched in horror._

_"__Thai!" Hannah screamed, high pitched as the grating finally gave way and a small mountain range of aliens stood up, and scuttled free._

_The Elder was more than ready. His blood pounded with the finally arrived Hunt. His senses were alert and adrenaline high as he roared a battle cry and suddenly spun to confront the wall of aliens behind him. His blades slashed so fast that the metal whistled loudly as it cut through the air, slamming into the hard meat drones, throwing them, shredding them as he kept in constant motion while they surrounded him._

_Hannah had never seen anything like it. Thai cut through the aliens like a knife through butter, every strike on point, every movement sharp, blindingly fast, and completely lethal. Acidic blood sprayed through the air, igniting on everything it touched as the corridor started to sizzle, smoke filled the air with a corrosive metal tang. _

_A couple arcs of acid flew her way, causing Hannah to scream again and dodge as best she could, floundering against the doors as the assault on the windows grew into a frenzy until one of the casements finally broke free, making her drop to the ground to avoid heads with inner mouths and desperately reaching fore arms. _

_A hard, bone jarring thud from in front of her barely registered as she dared to peek through her elbows, both arms covering her head as an alien carcass scraped, skidded and rocked to a stop just feet from her. The moment it was motionless, its acidic blood draining freely started to eat into the floor panels with more sizzling and melting metal, the body slowly sinking through it until it dropped, catching on the ragged sharp edges before finally disappearing from sight._

_The bodies continued to fly in all directions as Thwei'dok'de stayed in motion, never daring to pause as more and more aliens crawled up from the floor and down through the ceiling. This was clearly a well planned ambush as all of them were drones. These were the fodder for him to slaughter, and had been sent by an intelligent Queen. He roared again, catching one of them by a hind leg to spin them around and turn loose, knocking down its friends and freeing up more room for the Elder to move. _

_Hannah stayed cowering down in a crouched position under the windows until an ominous shadow whipped about over her head. Sucking in a shaky breath she hesitantly looked up. An alien tail had been forced through the broken casement as it thrashed around, hoping to hit something and kill it. Every bladed swipe against the door caused an orange spark like a strike plate, making her jump and scuttle away. _

_The window appeared to be too narrow for a full body to fit through but they were trying their best, obviously knowing that she was there. She was sweating like crazy, her armpits soaked along with the spaces between her shoulder blades, inner thighs, and her dripping face as she tried to force herself to think. Her back pack. Sucking in a breath, she knelt down and quickly ripped the pack off her back and set it down onto the ground as she tore through it. _

_Bombs, she had bombs in there. Attention constantly shifting, she struggled to pull out two plastic tubes of powder along with two metal plumbing pipes, chunks of quick drying clay, two ripped pieces of fabric and two Pyrex__ stoppered beakers full of clear chemicals._

_Her hands were shaking so badly that a couple of the items wanted to roll away, making her dart out to grab them with white knuckles. She needed to get a grip before she blew herself up, but it was so hard. Pulling in air through flared nostrils, she darted her gaze over the alien body to Thai. He was still shredding and massacring his way through the fold. For every three he took out, four more seemed to appear. It was impossible not to worry about him, no matter how ethereal and godlike capable he seemed. _

_Hell, he didn't even seem to be breathing hard, not that he'd ever paused long enough for Hannah to see. She had to focus. Tearing her gaze away and crouching as low as possible to avoid the whipping tail overhead, she fought with stoppers, with accurate shaking measurements, with sealants and cloth and spills. _

_She'd just finished screwing the cap on the second chemical bomb when a hellish blast sounded from the other side of the door. The force was enough to dent the metal outwards a bit, towards her, as she dropped down onto her forearms to cover her head and shield her own vulnerable explosives. The aliens screamed bloody murder as more hissing was heard, acidic blood burning in between the deafening wails of the emergency sirens.  
_

_The classmates she'd holed up in that corridor were still alive and fighting, after having enough time to build up and defend themselves. A weight felt lifted from her shoulders as she struggled to breathe, burning debris having blown through the one casement to float down around her as the other simply exploded outwards in a shower of chunked glass._

_Two more rapid explosions followed, rocking the hall beyond the doors and blowing the seams as corrosive, acidic smoke billowed out towards her, stinging her eyes and irritating her skin. _

_Her classmates had things handled on the other side, thank god, so she turned her fast breathing attention to the hall to her right where Thai was still fighting. He didn't even seem tired as they kept coming, yet their masses were building up and before long she wouldn't be able to see him anymore. Her bombs would be used here._

_Grabbing up her things in both arms, she knee walked them in front of and against the dead alien like a barrier and none too soon as more bodies flew through the air, some screaming, some lifeless and dead as they thumped down and jostled her on the grate. _

_The bombs were made, secure and lethal, yet she still took care with horribly shaking hands as she fished in her pack for a lighter. Pulling it out, she flipped the top and rolled the flint a few times until it caught, then set it against the fabric strip poked out of each cap. Once it was on fire, she counted to fifteen in her head before throwing the first one in the air then rolling the second like a bowling ball under the grated floor through a pried up panel. _

_Hannah ducked down, leaning her side against the under carriage of the alien as she kept counting in her head. Twenty, twenty-one, twenty-two, twenty-three – the first bomb exploded, the concussion blast so forceful that she had to lean her weight against the carcass before the other one blew, grating panels launched to the ceiling, knocking out lights and sending aliens scurrying. _

_Acid started to rain down, catching on her left arm, the outside of her left leg and even on the left side of her face as she screamed and writhed. The pain was out of this world, burning so deep it felt like her entire body was on fire. Frantic, she scrambled inside her pack to pull out another powdery tube and crack it open. Baby power like consistency floated out into her palms as she immediately slapped and smoothed the chemical over her. It did neutralize the acid but she knew the damage was already done. _

_The burning slowly faded, leaving behind only a deep tissue throbbing of traumatized nerves as she struggled to breathe and hug herself. The air was cloudy with chemicals and debris, some parts on fire, others just smoldering as they hovered in the air before slowly floating down. _

_"__T-Thai?" she called out, coughing soon after. "Thai!"_

_A deep rumble came from the thick of things, where most of the fog of her bomb still hung in the air. The grayish shadows shifted, swirling and slowly materialized into Thai's hulking form as he strode towards her. Hannah breathed a sigh of relief._

_"__He-er," he grated, flexing his forearm to react his twin blades with a snick and slide of rough metal. "Ooman, bauhm."_

_"__Bombs," Hannah rasped, sitting up on her trembling knees. "Two." She said, holding up a pair of fingers._

_"__Bauhms. Guhd." Thai sounded pleased, and it sent a shiver of accomplishment through Hannah as she slowly got to her feet after stuffing things back in her pack and throwing it on. _

_"__Are you alright?"_

_"__Sei-i," Thwei'dok'de said, shaking out his dreads as he stalked around the dead alien that had acted as a shield for the small Ooman. "pee-se auf kaykuh."_

_"__Piece of cake?"_

_"__Sei-i."_

_Hannah wavered slightly on her feet. She had injuries, throbbing pain, and was feeling overheated, but she still managed to crack a smile and shake her head at the Yaut. "This way."_

_"__Kainde Amedha__?"_

_"__Dead, beyond the door. My classmates took care of them."_

_"__Guhd!" Thwei'dok'de said to her._

_Thwei'dok'de looked down at the Ooman pup standing in front of him. He could see that she would be considered young even by other Ooman's. That youth was strangely countered by the knowledge of how to bypass the O__oman locking mechanisms, and even how to make some very effective explosives. Why would a pup have been taught such things? Why would all the pups encountered so far, have been extensively taught about the Yautja?_

_There were quite a few questions that needed to be answered, and this pup, Huh-awn-uh, was willing to answer as many as she could. Those answers would help, but he needed to know a lot more about what was going on here than this pup was likely to know. Information was something he desperately needed right now, but that would have to wait until the pups were safe._

_Thwei'dok'de watched in silent approval as the pup resumed the process of opening the door. With the filters in his mask, he was easily able to smell the injuries she'd sustained, but this pup wasn't letting pain stop her from what she needed to do. A deep, rumbling, and powerful purr resounded in his chest as his respect for this pup grew rapidly. Intelligent, resourceful, confident in the things she was familiar with, but cautious, hesitant, and sometimes even fearful when she was confronted with something she didn't understand. That was something to be expected from a pup though, and he understood that. What he didn't understand, was what exactly was going on here._

_"__Yes!"_

_It was a declaration of victory that the Elder fully understood as the damaged door slid most of the way open. The little pup quickly snatched up her strange carry sack, and grabbed his hand before pulling him through the now open door. As soon as he was past the door, the pup turned and began the process of closing it. That went much faster than getting it open, and he suspected that the damage had something to do with that._

_He looked around the corridor while cycling through the various visual modes of his mask. He wasn't exactly certain how many hard meats had been near the door, but it was at least five, and possibly as many as nine, if he were to judge from the scattered remains. Whatever explosive devices these pups were using, he had to admit that they were definitely effective._

_Thwei'dok'de froze in complete and utter confusion when three __shapes__ stepped out in front of him. He knew that there just __had__ to __be Ooman pups buried under all that stuff, but what that stuff__ was, he had no idea! _

_Gwan'Thwei stood for what felt like hours to him on the ground floor, staring indecisively at two different elevator doors long after the rest of the team had made their selections and lifted off. _

_They never seemed to have issues making snap judgments, unlike him, as each one had chosen a narrow door. Gwan'Thwei had watched them all turn sideways and duck to fit inside, the compartment cramped in comparison to a Yaut's normal bulk. _

_Witnessing that alone, was enough to give him second thoughts and send his eyes darting to the larger door to his left along the wall instead. It wasn't that he was claustrophobic, not usually, but the elevators for Ooman's were a lot smaller than anything he was used to on the Clanship. Those were big, because Yautja were big. These elevators were small, because Ooman's were small. _

_Currently lost in thought, Gwan'Thwei let his body follow where his eyes were leading until he stood in front of the larger door, tracing its perimeter with a curious hand and noting the control panel along side it. With only two buttons present, he trilled and pressed the 'up' button marked by a black arrow pointing to the ceiling and waited._

_With nothing else to do until the car arrived, he decided to take in more of his surroundings. It wouldn't hurt to be more alert, either. The hard meats could be anywhere and he didn't want to be caught unaware. The last time he'd faced them had been during his Chiva and while it was really exciting and ego boosting, he'd found himself more intrigued by the Ooman hosts they were spawned from. _

_He didn't get a chance to really see them or interact with them as most of those who hadn't been impregnated, were too busy shooting at him with weapons or running away, but they fascinated him. They could be oozing liquid fear through their pores and down their legs yet they kept screaming battle cries and kept fighting. _

_No Ooman stood a chance against a fully trained Yautja, but they went down fighting and died with their own honor. Gwan'Thwei appreciated that. During his Chiva, he'd held an Ooman male suspended from his blades for a good few minutes until it died and never once did the Ooman show weakness. Despite the blood and other bodily fluids pattering on the stone block floor the Ooman kept up his attack with his weapon. When it ran empty, the small metal projectiles having bounced off his armor;__ it started using the handle of the instrument to beat at him about the head. _

_At the time, he didn't understand Ooman language so he couldn't translate the bubbly, spittle frothing words the male slung at him as his limbs grew too weak and he dropped his weapon to clatter on the ground. Its hands had reached for him, trembling, but he kept it far enough away just in case. _

_A fellow UnBlood on Chiva with him had snarled at him to throw the animal away already but Gwan'Thwei couldn't seem to do that. In his studies, he'd been taught that Ooman's had no honor. They lied, cheated, connived and tricked to get their own way but the male currently dying on his blades had put up a good fight for his kind._

_He hadn't once run away and he hadn't lost control of his organs until Gwan'Thwei had run him through and lifted him up to dangle in the air. The male was defensive and aggressive, defiant until his last choked out breath when he finally went limp and drooled blood with his head hanging down. The Ooman had died with honor, and Gwan'Thwei helped ensure that by not throwing its body away prematurely. No, instead he'd kept it until the end._

_Gwan'Thwei had even gone a step further, impressed by the Ooman as he was when a group of drones had suddenly sprung from a nearby pit in the stone floor. The Ooman had a short row of small, round balls clipped to its belt connected by a strong string that looped through each ball's pin. Figuring they were bombs, Gwan'Thwei pulled the string sharply, all pins falling away before he finally threw the body from his blades and down into the pit._

_Seconds after he'd dispatched the hard meats that had emerged;__ a gigantic blast had fired under ground, sending a cloud of debris into the air along with hard meat parts and acid clots, congealed from the heat of the explosion. Tilting his head, he trilled at the pit opening._

_Later, his Elders had commended him for being innovative and smart by using the Ooman bombs but Gwan'Thwei secretly waved away their praise and instead, beseeching Paya, passed it on to the Ooman in the here after. Gwan'Thwei had triggered the event, but the Ooman's own preparatory skill had allowed the opportunity. _

_The elevator finally dinged its arrival, pulling him from his thoughts as he trilled and looked up as the door slid open. It was empty of hard meats and Ooman's but it did have things waiting inside. What looked to be a giant laundry cart sat along the left wall, full with linens of mostly white but some colors too and to the right sat a small rolling cart of topped thin trays. Food perhaps? _

_Approaching the doors, Gwan'Thwei__ looked up at the ceiling to see a paneled escape hatch while the floor was solid but seemed to conceal another hatch that was even with the floors surface. It was big, he wouldn't have to hunch his shoulders to enter or stand inside for the ride and the lights were steady and bright. _

_A thick flat railing wound around the three walls and an Ooman voice spoke from somewhere. Gwan'Thwei was confused, since he couldn't see any Ooman's despite hearing them. Shuffling closer to the entrance, he looked closer inside with his mask to make sure no Ooman was hiding in the laundry or behind the cart. __The car was empty._

_So where was the Ooman voice coming from? Lifting his head, he leaned into the space to gaze around a bit more until suddenly the door started to slide closed. Jerking, he slapped a large hand against the jam and the door retreated easily enough. Interesting._

_Looking back over his shoulder for a final scout around the ground floor, he stepped into the car and left the marble floored promenade behind as he turned to face forward and let the door slide closed. _

_Now what? Trilling, he looked around the interior from his new position and noted the control panel to the right and in seconds he was confused, hesitant. Two rows of circular buttons were there. The one on the left was longer;__ listing each floor including sublevels but the one on the right was shorter, only listing eight buttons. _

_Instead of checking his computer schematic of the complex as his Elder would've suggested, Gwan'Thwei decided to figure things out on his own. It was how he learned best. Skimming a clawed finger down the left row with the most buttons, he paused and checked his locator tracking system inside his mask. _

_Med'ka was listed on Level Two, so when his finger reached that button he pushed it in hard, unsure how much pressure to use. The button depressed and when he let go, it lit up seconds before the car started to move. It jostled him a bit, nothing that he couldn't handle at first before the ride evened out smoothly._

_A dinging noise from overhead had him looking up as a red LED screen flashed symbols. When it stopped on Level Two, the car jostled again before the doors slid open revealing a straight hallway with nothing really in sight. Trilling, he stepped closer and peered out._

_Ahead down the hall on either side were depressions for doorways and at the end was another hall, forming a T junction. Nothing was moving, any__ hard meat, or Ooman, yet debris lay scattered on the grated floor having spilled from some thin metal lockers in the walls._

_Paper decorations adored the ceiling, hanging down. They looked like chains, streamers, and such and hallway music filtered into his elevator with a tinkling, relaxed beat so different from the drums on Prime that Gwan'Thwei tilted his head and struggled to understand what it could mean. Just as the doors were closing, he thought he heard a ruckus of noise of down the hall. Pup laughter._

_That couldn't be right. No Yautja pups were on this planet. Confused, Gwan'Thwei reached to stay the door but he was too late as it closed and sealed with a slight hiss. If not Yautja pups, then who? Ooman pups? No. It couldn't be! Snorting behind his mask, he consulted the control panel again, pressing Level 3. The car ride was shorter this time and as the door opened, noise exploded at full volume. _

_He was looking at a T junction, a hall ahead and one to each side, all crammed tightly with Ooman's__. Ooman pups. The mask he wore hid the widening of his eyes as he stepped to the doorway, palming the jam on either side to look out at the chaos. _

_They were pups, varying in ages as much as heights and some even brandished weapons. Most he couldn't identify but the melted grating and pitting along the walls he knew was due to hard meat blood. Alarmed, he growled and dropped his arms, twin blades shooting from their housing to snick in place as he planted his feet. _

_A couple growls and roars from further up the hall caught his attention and he quieted himself, tilting his head at the sound of a fellow team member. Checking his locator, Ker'ak'de was here, just up ahead, drowning in the sea of Ooman's before him. He didn't think his team member was hurt or in pain, and his scans quickly showed that the Ooman's__ were otherwise unarmed in the thick of their pack but that didn't mean anything. Fully prepared to step from the elevator, Gwan'Thwei roared low and postured. _

_Three avenues of Ooman's spun to confront him, looking determined and fierce despite being surprised to see him. Fully illuminated in the light of the utility car, the pups closest seemed to take in everything at once from his posture to his dark evergreen coloring and tan belly before a chant rose up that carried down each hall in turn. _

_"__T3, Yautja! T3, Yautja!"_

_T3? Gwan'Thwei didn't understand but he did hear an echoing roar from down the hall in front of him. Ker'ak'de had heard the commotion and was signaling to him. Puffing himself up, the Young Blood charged out of the car and roared in challenge, sweeping his masked gaze to encompass all three halls with his arms to his sides and blades at the ready. He'd never experienced Ooman pups before but he figured they wouldn't be any different from Yaut pups that__ were aggressive, had poor impulse control and prone to fits of instant gratification. _

_He didn't count on the pups being so blood thirsty, though. The elevator doors closing behind him, Gwan'Thwei spun to face them but it was too late. Turning back, at least twenty pups were already advancing on him, boxing him in against the elevator doors as they held their weapons at the ready. What game was this? _

_"__Stay back!" one of the pups yelled, thrusting out a spear looking rod at him with a flowing flag of material at the end. _

_"__Heidi, don't!" yelled another, grabbing the spear and shoving it down until its rounded tip hit the grating. _

_"__Get off, Leslie!" the older pup spat back, struggling to lift her spear again despite the younger pup's__ weight bearing it down. _

_Gwan'Thwei was at a loss, having backed up against the closed elevator door, constantly scanning the hall. His Ooman database was turned on but they spoke so quickly and he was so stunned that he couldn't make sense of the language translations in his ears. They had accents. So many different ones, like they came from different parts of a planet. _

_"__He's Yautja, don't hurt him!" the Leslie pup said. _

_"__We already have a Yautja on this floor!" Heidi argued back, jerking at the spear to get it free of Heidi's weight. "We don't need two!"_

_A roar from down the hall reverberated towards Gwan'Thwei again yet he still couldn't see Ker'ak'de, though a mixed scent of fear, excitement and… mint reached his sensors. Mint? He trilled._

_Roaring again to make contact, Ker'ak'de returned the vocalization. He was alright, if uneasy and off guard but not harmed. It calmed Gwan'Thwei's mind to the point where he didn't notice a small Ooman pup rush up and hit the elevator button behind him. When the doors opened again, the pup stepped in front of him and pushed against his hips. Looking down, he trilled but didn't move. _

_"__You have to go!" Leslie cried, putting her full insignificant weight behind the shove. "Please!"_

_Confused, Gwan'Thwei looked again down the hall towards where Ker'ak'de's roar had originated. All around all he saw were Ooman's so his team mate must be on the ground. He wasn't hurt, so the current predicament made no sense to the Young Blood's mind. If Ker'ak'de wasn't injured, why was he prone to the Ooman's?_

_"__T3 offense! T3 offense!"_

_The combined chant from all halls snapped his head up, his few rank rings chiming as hard meats charged from the left and the right. The pups took up defensive positions with their improvised weapons as the elevator's doors opened and Leslie with the help of others managed to shove Gwan'Thwei back into the car as the doors closed._

_Gwan'Thwei was too stunned to fully understand what had just happened until it was too late. The doors were already closed when he let loose with an enraged roar, punching and striking at the car walls. Metal dented and sparks flew repeatedly as he did damage to the control panel without fully realizing it until the utility car took off like a launched drop pod shooting straight up and gaining speed at an alarming rate. The G forces alone crashed against his head and upper shoulders like the sky was falling, forcing his knees to bend and shake as he fought to stay upright and plant his hands against the elevator door in front of him. _

_The car shook violently on its track;__ metal screaming with friction to the point of sparks and smoke outside the walls as the sheer thundering bass of ascent rattled Gwan'Thwei's brain. The lights over head flickered madly as the control panel continued to spark, several of the vertical buttons in the left column left blackened and halfway ripped out from his blades punching through and tearing away. _

_Elevators__ on the Clanship were made to withstand Yautja temper but apparently not Ooman ones. His own stupidity was crashing down on him as hard as the forces were, cramping his stomach until he felt oddly nauseous and every muscle in his body was burning in tension._

_Just when Gwan'Thwei thought that he couldn't physically take it anymore, that he might be forced to shame and soil himself by throwing up inside his mask and slight panic worried him about asphyxiation the car suddenly screeched to an ear piercing stop and for the briefest moment, he was weightless. _

_His feet had left the floor, his large body almost hovering in midair before finally crashing back down to jar his joints and jostle the car on its barely functioning track. _

_Everything was still and silent, save for the odd squeal of track wheels, humming buzz like flickers as the lights equalized and the occasional residual spark from the panel. He was still alive. Barely. Gwan'Thwei breathed through the last of his queasy stomach and prayed silently to Paya, vowing to never be that dumb again. _

_The ding of the elevator sounded right before the door started to slide open again. His hands were still pressed against it, so Gwan'Thwei quickly stood up and shook out his arms as he cast a glance to the LED display that flashed the number '23' and an Ooman word. _


End file.
